


Jack Frost: Agent of WINTER

by CleverCorgi, Kayasurin



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Bunny Is Oblivious, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Giant Flying Glaciers oh my, Humor, M/M, Plethora of Original Characters, Secret Organization, Spies & Secret Agents, secret agent man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 61
Words: 275,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CleverCorgi/pseuds/CleverCorgi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Kangaroo, you'd be surprised by how many people would surrender to me if they heard you call me 'Frostbite.'"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From [Kayasurin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin):  
> Corgi and I almost not really came to blows over this fic, but it's such a blast to write! Also, I'm cackling too hard to be coherent- we really put our Evil Authors club memberships to work with this one! Enjoy!
> 
> From [Clever Corgi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CleverCorgi):  
> So, this story is a fill for a prompt on Dreamwidth ([this one](http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/2389.html?thread=5791317#cmt5791317)). When we discovered this prompt in the Spring, we both went completely utterly crazy for it. It's been in the works for a while, as you will hopefully be able to see. We are not completely sure how long this will work out to be, but knowing us... [smirk]
> 
>  

**Easter Sunday, 14 April 1968 -- Upstate New York, 7:32 am local time**

Jack hovered high above the dark clouds, fat with promise, carefully examining the weather patterns below. It was one of the largest, nastiest looking thunderheads he’d seen in a long time. Several decades, at least. The winds were turned against themselves; the storm was being shoved in the wrong direction. Instead of traveling ‘downhill’ to the low pressure zone back over his shoulder, it was being forced ‘uphill’, into a high pressure zone. That alone would have told him the storm had been recently created and now manhandled into place.

“We’re in position,” Kern’s voice whispered from his earpiece.  “On your mark.”

“Confirm -” The wind whistled across the tiny receiver, and he winced at the feedback. “Confirm visual of the targets?”

“...visual confirmed.  Fifty yards from target.”

“Copy that, Kern. Give me fifteen to catch the storm and neutralize it, then I’ll drop in and have words with our new _friends_.”

“Affirmative.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, concentrating. The odd, ‘other-sight’ he’d been told was so rare superimposed itself on what he could see. He knew he was looking at clouds, but now he could also see the tiny spirits - personifications, really - barely strong enough for self-awareness let alone intellect, that made up the storm and the winds. Rams and horses, this time, the rams being the clouds and the horses being the winds.

None of them were very happy.

He took a deep breath, and dove down, the unnatural winds fighting with his. He reached out with one hand, and snatched the metaphorical reins from - whoever - and _pulled_. 

On the one hand, he knew he was just using gestures to aid in his concentration and control. On the other, he saw the horse-winds rear and buck, jostling the cloud-rams and irking them further. If he didn’t turn them, quick, the thunderstorm would break and bolt, much like a wild mustang fighting it’s lead, although quite a bit more literally.

Jack hauled the reins to one side, even as he reached out mental hands-that-weren’t-hands to the cloud-rams, soothing their tempers. The wind-horses screamed, and he winced. Amazing how very much like an angry horse the winds could actually sound. Especially at these altitudes.

The cloud-rams calmed faster than the winds did. Jack continued to pull at the reins, dragging the winds away from the clouds. He ducked spectral hooves, twisting and spinning through the air, until he had them pointed the way he - and they - wanted them to go. Towards the low pressure zone, downhill, and without the heavy clouds slowing them down.

Jack let go of the reins, and shot up out of the way.

The winds raced off, and he lost the concentration that let him see the personifications. He let them go, and turned to the clouds. Without the winds shoving them around, it was easy to spread the spectral flock out. Thunder growled a few times, the last complaining grumbles, and then the storm settled. The energy the storm had generated crackled through his veins, humming like the high-voltage transmission lines that criss-crossed the country. If he held onto it, he’d - well, nothing good, he didn’t want to turn into a bunch of atoms splattered across the atmosphere.

Easier to feed the energy back into the clouds, transfiguring it into his own power. Snow, good, gentle snow, the kind children loved to pack into snowballs and turn into snowmen and snowforts. It was late in the season for it, but better snow than the possibility of tornadoes.

“Kern? Storm’s controlled. How close’ve they got to the target?”

“Twenty yards.  We’ve been keeping them distracted.  Target is as oblivious as usual,” Kern’s slightly amused reply came back a moment later.  “He’s facing east, staring at your handiwork in consternation.  I think he suspects you’re around.”

“It’ll make a good distraction. I’ll whammy our jokers - anyone figure out who they are yet?” He turned, and headed towards Kern’s location. He kept high. No need to blow anyone’s cover, or alert the Target to the danger he was in.

“One of them is claiming to be ‘Viné.’  I’ve seen the real Viné before; this joker doesn’t look a thing like him - maybe a subordinate, trying to earn rank?”

“Demons,” Jack said in reply, the distaste evident in his tone. “Right, over your head. I’ll land hard, get them before they can react, then distract the Target while you clean up.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, simply twisted his body around and dove headfirst at the ground, hawklike. Forest, he noted distantly, in the back of his mind, thick trees, probably the biggest reason why the Target hadn’t noticed the demons stalking him. The Target could get plenty single-minded this time of year, so it wasn’t the _entire_ reason, but -

And the ground was coming up fast. Jack twisted again, this time to dodge tree branches. They wouldn’t kill him, but they’d _hurt_.

He pulled up the over-sight again, just long enough to spot the demonic energies curling around the leaves, before dropping into a tight spiral, arresting his momentum.

Then he hit them, hard and fast.

He got one demon right off; it never saw him coming. It yelped, half a second before the ice covered its mouth in a pseudo-gag. Jack stepped forward, brought his staff up and down onto another demon. He should have hit it over the head, but it moved at the last second, trying to turn around to look at him. His blow landed instead on its shoulder. Something cracked, but a broken collarbone wasn’t nearly enough to slow the creature down. It was a distraction, and Jack kicked it in the stomach, hard enough his heel hurt.  That did the trick, so it was worth it.

Jack grabbed the demon’s tattered tunic, twisted, and _shoved_. It stumbled back into a tree, and he iced it quickly, neutralizing and immobilizing it.

Two down, one to go.  Jack quickly glanced around and -

The third one wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

Jack was hit from behind, thrown forward into another tree trunk.

_Forest fighting. Bah._

He wasted no time, scrambling around the tree and back onto his feet. The demon hissed, a snake-like tongue flicking out from between thin lips.

Jack smashed the crook of his staff into the demon’s mouth. It yelped, and spat out shards of broken teeth, trailing a sickly yellow-black, viscous fluid - demon blood.  It hissed faintly as it hit the ground, eating away at pebbles and grit.

_Note to self: no touchy the blood splatter._

The demon swung a massive fist at Jack’s head, but there were benefits to being small and agile like a ferret. Jack ducked, and jabbed the butt of his staff into the demon’s armpit. He knew just what that did, from experience. The demon’s arm went limp, and he grinned. One arm numb and useless, that left only the other one to worry about.  Which -

_Whoa._

Jack hit the dirt, brought his legs up until his knees almost touched his nose, and managed to twist and shove up off the ground with his hands. He landed on his toes, and spun, staff extended and at shoulder height.

The impact shot through the wood into his arms. His hands actually went numb.

The demon hit the ground, twitching faintly, jaw shattered.  It tried to moan, but only succeeded in aggravating it’s new injury; it found itself writhing in agony instead.

Jack caught the demon by one shoulder, and half lifted, half dragged it to the base of yet another tree. He froze it in place, locking it down. Demons could heal freakishly fast, and the last thing he wanted was for this one to recover while still loose.

“Jack, hurry.  He heard something,” Kern hissed in his ear.

**_“_** ** _The Target?”_** he hand-signed towards one of his watching Shepherds, then turned and bolted away from the demons.

A confirmatory yip affirmed his intuition.  It paid to have a vague sense of where his Charge was at any given moment.

He didn’t make it far. Jack skipped around to one side, avoiding the large, gray-furred figure stomping his way. The Easter Bunny stopped, turning to watch Jack. Apparently he hadn’t seen the demons just twelve trees down. Bless his overly-focused little heart.

“ _Hey_ , Cottontail! What’re you doing out and about this time of year?” Jack grinned, and leaned sideways on his staff.

“Oi!  Frostbite!  Do you have _any_ idea what day it is?” Bunny growled menacingly as he approached.

“Sun...day?” Jack replied, brows furrowing. “Uh, it _is_ Sunday, right?”

“ _Easter_ Sunday, you bloody wombat!”

_Well, crap-on-a-stick,_ Jack sighed mentally. “Is it? Really? Because I was sure that wasn’t until next week. At the earliest.”

Bunny growled darkly and charged.

“Hey! Hey hey hey hey! Watch it!” Jack ducked, just fast enough to avoid bruises. “Come on, honest mistake, have a heart!”

Having missed his intended target, Bunny threw a boomerang. Jack almost didn’t duck in time; _either_ time.

“Bunny! Not nice!” He backed up, and jumped as though startled to find a tree at his back. “Hey, come on, I can clean it up! Stop the snow, send it away. But I need a minute!”

_It should have dissipated enough energy already, anyway…._

Bunny grunted, but motioned with his boomerang for Jack to hurry it up, expression dark.

Jack sighed, and made several expansive gestures with hand and staff, face twisted up in ‘concentration’. He siphoned off the last little bit of storm-energy, but didn’t send it anywhere. After the fight, he needed it. He had bruises that needed healing; he could already feel them starting to tingle as the energy did its magic. Overhead, the clouds began to break up, the snow dying off.

“So, uh, in an hour or two it’ll be gone,” he said, and smiled as charmingly as he knew how.

Bunny’s right eye twitched - and then his ears twitched in annoyance.

_Uh oh._

“All clear,” came Kern’s voice over the comms.

Jack bounced twice up onto his toes, and blinked innocently at Bunny. “So, uh, sorry about the storm. Really. And I’d love to stay and chat, but -”

He moved fast, forming the snowball and throwing it almost in the same instant. It glittered blue in the scant second before it splattered on Bunny’s face.

“Gotta go!” Jack shot upwards and twisted several times, until he was hidden behind yet another tree trunk.

Jack was still close enough to hear Bunny’s giggles start.

He peeked around the trunk just long enough to watch the Easter Bunny shake off the effects of the ‘happy snowball’ and stomp off to rescue his hunts, and sighed. That hadn’t been so bad. But then, he knew by now he’d judge every mission against that very first one. 

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**All Souls’ Day, Saturday, 2 Nov 1748 -- Naples, Italy, 5:01 pm local time**

Jack hovered over the Neapolitan street, listening to the conversation. It was all in Italian, of course, but he was just listening for a name, not information; he was still learning the language, but he could sort-of keep up if he concentrated. Rocque Joaquin de Alcubierre had to be somewhere in town, or maybe in the ruins. He just didn’t want to go to the wrong place. Sure, it’d be nice to see the Pompeii ruins, but he wanted to see what de Alcubierre had to say about everything.

He folded his arms, and drifted a little to the side. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he’d missed de Alcubierre entirely.

It was getting late, and by now - well, de Alcubierre would be heading home, or… something, Jack didn’t actually know for sure what it’d be. Maybe there was a camp at the ruins? He’d seen a few tents, but had assumed they were for the supplies, not the people. Even if the tents weren’t a camp, he could wait out the night and listen in on de Alcubierre in the morning. 

Decision made, he flew up until he was some hundred feet above the highest roofline. The ruins were… that way. Jack twisted, and glided along on the back of his Wind. He saw spectral feathers in the corners of his eyes, but the Wind didn’t put forth the effort necessary for him to see her in the entirety. He wasn’t sure he minded, really. Sometimes looking at the Wind gave him a headache.

The Wind whistled quietly, and Jack twitched. “What -” he looked down, and stopped in place, Wind swirling around his shoulders. “What was that?”

He flew lower, looking for another flash of gray. It wasn’t easy, with it being dusk, but -

Movement!

He turned and followed the trail of movement - rustling bushes and the occasional gray blur - Pompeii all but forgotten. Jack had to fly a little faster, just to keep up with whatever it was. Some kind of animal? The gray sparkled, with a silvery tint in the fading light, in a way he’d only seen the winds and clouds do before.

Then the whatever-it-was paused, standing up straight, and it was all Jack could do to keep from falling out of the air.

_That’s not a rabbit,_ he thought, even if the fur and ears were right. Too big, and it - he? - stood on two legs, not four. The body structure was a bit off too, with a humanoid abdomen and the rest - not as much leporidae as… _gangurru_?  The leg structure in particular reminded Jack of those strange hopping marsupials he’d seen way down south.

The humanoid _gangurru_ turned, and Jack caught sight of the bandolier that was slung crosswise over the creature’s chest. He squinted to get a better look, and almost fell out of the air again. Painted _eggs_?

Was that - no, _couldn’t_ be - _had_ to be.

_The_ Easter Bunny _? Thought he’d be smaller..._

Jack sucked in a breath, and flew towards the - the Easter Bunny - he was _real_ , he was! And maybe they could talk? He had so many questions, and - 

Where was he going?

It was easier to follow the Easter Bunny this time, now that he knew what to look for, but still took all of his concentration. He glanced up a few times, just enough to keep from flying into anything, and so noticed the hills were getting closer. The Wind whistled, and whirled in front of him. He squinted to see through her, and then realized she’d brought him the scent of woodsmoke.

There were people in the hills. Was that where the Easter Bunny was going?

It seemed reasonable enough. He sped up so as to fly over the Easter Bunny, and directed the Wind to keep him from hitting things. There weren’t any trees high enough for him to smack into, but there were a few birds and bats - not the sort of creatures he wanted to smack with his face. He kept one eye on the Easter Bunny, and looked around as he flew. The Easter Bunny was moving faster now, obviously having figured out his exact destination.

Which was right over -

Crap. Satyrs.

Jack pulled up, and caught his bottom lip between his teeth. The camp was rough, the kind of thing a group of vagrants might put up, with a sketchy wall and equally sketchy shelters. 

And - cages?

He was getting a very bad feeling about this. He dropped a little lower, enough to get a good look without drawing attention to himself, and gasped. There were humans in the cages. Women, all of them. Mostly young. None of them had any clothes, and they all had vacant expressions. The candles were lit, but no one was home. And those satyrs, well - Jack knew _that_ look anywhere.

He clenched his fists on his staff, and felt out the clouds. There weren’t any. No snowstorms for him, not today. There was a good breeze off the nearby coast, though. He might be able to do something with that.

Jack reached for the breeze, but he was seconds too slow. The Easter Bunny had arrived.

The gate was blown open from some kind of explosion. Jack noticed, in the back of his mind, that the smoke was tinted pastel colors - pink and blue and green - but the damage more than made up for the soft hues. And then the Easter Bunny jumped through the smoke, weapons - wait, were those Aboriginal _boomoorings_? - flying. He drove the satyrs back away from the cages with a flurry of kicks and punches. The _boomoorings_ spun through the air, knocking a few of the satyrs in the back of the head. Jack laughed at the sight.

The Easter Bunny got enough space cleared to make it safe to turn his back, just long enough to turn and smash the cage lock open. He wrenched the door open, and seemed to be urging the women out towards the open gate.

Jack flew down, the Wind and his windstream swirling around him. He kicked up dust, but the Easter Bunny was too busy fighting to notice. The women stumbled over the uneven ground, but they picked up speed the longer they stayed up and moving.

“Come on, come on,” Jack urged. The women couldn’t hear him, and wouldn’t understand him if they could, but it made him feel better. He hovered overhead, keeping an eye on things, so no satyr - or unscrupulous human in the area - could recapture the women.

The satyrs’ camp hadn’t been too far from the Pompeii excavation, Jack realized. The women traveled in more or less a straight line, downhill, and stumbled to a stop near the low fence that kept people from trampling all over and through the excavations. There was a night guard patrolling; Jack sent the Wind to blow his hat off in the direction of the women.

The guard spotted the women, who had recovered enough to huddle up and start sobbing, and sounded the alarm. Jack stayed just long enough to see men, more guards and people who looked academic, and laborers, all run up with blankets and concern. Jack sighed, and lifted up into the air. That was the women taken care of. He probably should stay and keep watch over them, but - well, things seemed to be under control, and he _really_ wanted to see if the Easter Bunny could spare a minute or two once the asskicking was over.

Jack flew through the air at a good clip, about the speed of a cantering horse. It had taken between half an hour and forty-five minutes for the women to get down out of the hills; it took Jack something like fifteen minutes or so to get back.

He arrived just in time to see the Easter Bunny stumble, and fall.

“What?” he whispered, through bloodless lips. The Wind whistled, and he smelt the smoke again.

The smoke that two of the satyrs were waving at the Easter Bunny.

Something in the smoke? Something that didn’t affect the satyrs, it seemed.

Jack shook his head, and adjusted his grip on the staff. What was the best plan? Attack, obviously, but - should he take out the bonfire? How? Even as he watched, some of the satyrs approached the Easter Bunny, and started _touching_ his fur.

And _grinning_.

That meant - _no._

Jack snarled, and dove at the camp. He sent the Wind ahead of him, and she sliced through the air, her snow-edged wings trailing the nasty smoke. She brought clear air in her wake, and the satyrs actually stopped for a moment to look around. A second pass by the Wind and she managed to put out the fire.

_Perfect._

Jack swooped over their heads, and dripped the cold energy from the crook of his staff. It turned into ice wherever it hit the ground - or the satyrs. They yelped and screamed and cursed. Several tried to attack him, once their vision recovered from the sudden loss of light, but he threw snowballs at their heads and kept up out of reach. None of them had any distance weapons, it looked like.

The Wind spun around him, shrieking with avian rage, before diving on the goat-men closest to the Easter Bunny. They couldn’t feel the bites or slashes, but chilblains rose up wherever she touched them. Jack grinned, and made another pass, spraying the entire area with his ice magic. Goat hooves or no, the satyrs slipped and tumbled when they tried to walk on the ice. Whenever they went down, he shot more ice energy, freezing their hands and knees to the ground.

Several slid on icy patches and went flying into the shelters, collapsing the flimsy things on themselves.  A couple even ended up in the cages.  A flick of his wrist and the Wind slammed the door shut.  He froze the lock in place, although he may have overdone that a tad - the lock disappeared into a block of ice a foot wide.

Jack spun a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, but didn’t see any free satyrs. They were all trapped, incapacitated in one way or another, and he sighed with relief. That took care of that. Now, the Easter Bunny.

Fresh air had helped the women. Had it helped the Easter Bunny?

Jack dropped down, and walked over to where the creature had fallen. He didn’t look very comfortable, one arm trapped under him, hips and shoulders twisted at different angles. Jack knelt down, and checked for consciousness, but - not enough fresh air, maybe? The Easter Bunny was sort of awake, eyes half open and rapidly flicking back and forth, and he mumbled, but it was all nonsense words. If it was even a language. It sounded a bit like the _gangurru_ was trying to talk, but - well, really drunk people sounded that way, actually.

“Here.” Jack set his staff aside, and rolled the Easter Bunny onto his back. He refused to be distracted by how soft the creature’s fur was, or how warm he felt to Jack’s cold hands.  The creature’s well-being and comfort were more important at the moment than how it felt to touch him. To touch… anyone, after getting walked through for so long.

Okay, so it was a _little_ distracting.

“Feel better?” he asked, and forced himself to pull back.

The Easter Bunny seemed to be breathing easier, now that he wasn’t all twisted up, and looked a little calmer, too.  He seemed to be nodding off a bit though.

Well, it wasn’t as though Jack had anywhere pressing to be. He sat down, cross-legged, and leaned forward on his elbows. He rested his staff across his lap.  It wasn’t possible to make out any colors with the sun down, but he could tell that the Easter Bunny had pale fur at the throat and down his stomach, and maybe darker patches on his forehead and shoulders. It was incredibly tempting to reach over and touch, smooth the fur down where it’d been ruffled, but he resisted.

He leaned forward anyway, but never had a chance to make contact. With the satyrs taken out, the hills had gone silent, but that was abruptly shattered.

“Cha ghéill sinn gu bràch!”

Jack jumped to his feet, staff at the ready, standing protectively over the Easter Bunny as - what in the world…?

Several individuals burst through the shattered remains of the gates, all at once, the smaller, faster ones fanning out, although they all came to an abrupt stop a mere yard or two inside the camp.  They were staring about, dumbfounded.

“Stop!” Jack swung his staff in a loose arc, trying to point at all of them at once. “Right now!”

A thin ring of ice formed across the ground as his crook passed by.

_Oops_.

There were six of them, and they looked as much like foxes as the Easter Bunny looked like a rabbit. Four of them had two tails, and the larger two had four tails. They varied in colors, not that Jack could make that out very well, but one was very light colored - white, even? - and the rest ranged between shades of gray in the moonlight. They’d jumped in on all fours, but stood upright.

Did- were they here for the Easter Bunny? Animal-foxes ate animal-rabbits - was it the same way with the humanoid versions?

“Don’t come any closer! I mean it!” Jack shouted in warning.

Another spirit entered the camp through the remains of the gate, stepping over the rubble as though it didn’t exist. He was - _tall_.

Wait, no.  Those were just - _antlers_?

“Light,” the figure commanded.  One of the fox-things hastened to obey.  Momentarily, the campfire was relit and Jack could see the -

_What?_ he thought, stunned. _Kitsune, in Italy?_

And, the leader -

_Is a walking, talking deer.  What is it today with the humanoid animals?_

The leader was more humanoid than the kitsune, or the Easter Bunny, with a more human-like face below the nose, which was quite fully that of a deer.  Further down, the fur thinned appreciably down the abdomen, thickening again at the waist and down the cervid-like legs, ending in the expected hooves.  He - very, very _obviously_ a he - wore minimal clothing, similar to the Easter Bunny, but with more harnesses for weapons and accoutrements.  He wore a golden torc around his neck and carried a spear and round shield.

Jack clenched his jaw, and pointed his staff at the deer-man. 

The deer-man raised an eyebrow at Jack’s actions, but turned his gaze to survey the campsite.

“You did this?  Alone?” he asked after a moment, gruff voice tinged with incredulity.  “There were at least two dozen satyrs, according to my Shepherds.”

“Why didn’t you do anything about them?” Jack made a quick gesture at the satyrs. “They’d captured a bunch of humans - and you’re _late_. I beat them ten, twenty minutes ago.”

The deer-man gazed consideringly at Jack, before saying, “Unfortunate as it is, the humans are not our concern.  Bunnymund, on the other hand, is.”

“Bunny…” He looked down at the Easter Bunny. “Him?”

“Yes.  But first, where are my manners?  I am Kernunnos, Knight of WINTER.  These are my Lords and Shepherds.  Whom might you be?” the deer-man - Kernunnos - said, with a flourish and a small bow. 

“Jack. Jack Frost. You… You don’t have ice, how can you be a winter… anything?”

Kernunnos smirked.  It was an odd expression, given his face.

“Ah, a young spirit then, to not have heard of us.  A moment, if you please,” Kernunnos replied, turning to address one of the four-tailed kitsune.  “Return Bunnymund to the Warren and clean up this mess.  We wouldn’t want our… _guests_ , bothering the humans any further.”

“Yes, sir,” the kitsune said with a quick dip of his head, before turning and barking orders at the others.

“Come, Jack Frost.  There is much to discuss.”

Jack glanced down at the - at Bunnymund.

“He’ll be okay?” he asked, wistfully.

“Yes.  Come.  You can see him another time, I assure you.”

Jack hesitated, but then lowered his staff. The Wind swirled around him, then gave him a little push towards Kernunnos. Well, that was clear enough. He nodded, and glanced back at Bunnymund only once.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
**Easter, 1968**

“Jack?” Kern queried softly as he touched Jack’s shoulder.

Jack started out of his reverie, not having noticed Kern’s approach as his mind wandered.

Bad form.

“Um, right.  We good?”

Kern smiled at Jack and nodded.

“Come, back to the Fortress.  There will be paperwork.”

Jack groaned. “Hate that invention,” he muttered, and yoked his staff over his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Other languages:  
>  _gangurru_ – Guugu Yimithirr root word for Kangaroo.  
>  _boomoorings_ \- the most likely Aboriginal root word for English boomerang, according to a more recent study. The provenance of the word has been difficult for scholars to determine.  
>  “Cha ghéill sinn gu bràch!” - literally, “we’ll never fall back” in Gaelic.
> 
> Corgi's Anecdotes:  
> [Rocque Joaquin de Alcubierre](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rocque_Joaquin_de_Alcubierre) was a Spanish military engineer, who discovered architectural remains at [Pompeii](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pompeii) in 1748.
> 
> Kaya would like to add: "I'm Father-Odin-Motherfucking-Frost."


	2. Chapter 2

**Monday, 19 May 1980 -- The Fortress, South Pole, Antarctica, Midmorning**

This was why his usual office was tucked away in the back corridors. Jack didn’t stop juggling his snowballs - he had a half-dozen in the air, and if he _really_ wanted a challenge he’d have two dozen at once - but he did sneak a peek at the agents hovering in his doorway.

There were thirteen, maybe fourteen of them, with varying degrees of appearance. They must have just come from a shapeshifting class, he supposed; the group was mixed almost equally between single-tailed kitsune and ravens, with two or three snow maidens hiding away in the back. Shy little things, snow maidens. Jack wondered just what had brought those three - two? - to WINTER’s recruiting agency.

Jack snorted, and caught the snowballs. He quickly squashed them all together, into one large ball, almost the size of a basketball, and started spinning it on the tip of one finger. Recruiting agency. When had that happened? He shook his head. Father Frost had apparently taken the recent assault on the Fortress as a _sign_.

_That old man and his ‘signs.’  I swear, if a penguin wandered in accidentally and left a surprise behind, that’d be a ‘sign.’_

Now the Fortress was being renovated by the best and brightest engineers in WINTER, the command structure was being switched around, from old-time Norse military to an intelligence agency in style, and they had _recruiting drives_.

“You kids planning on being there long?” he asked, and caught the giant snowball in his hands again. He looked at the group in his doorway, and smiled his best, most charming smile. One of the kitsune _fluttered_.

One of the kits - _God, is he even out of diapers yet?_ \- stepped forward and swept a small bow.

_Bold little trainee, that one._

“Sir, we we’re just wondering if - if you might talk with us for a bit?  We’ve heard so _many_ stories….” the kit trailed off, scuffing one footpaw in nervousness on the stone floor, which was made of some sort of pale white mineral that appeared to be hardened snow at first glance.

“Stories, huh?” Jack nodded, and waved them in. Good thing this wasn’t his usual closet of an office. He had four times the amount of space than he normally did, even with all the boxes and filing cabinets that’d been rescued from his previous office. “You kids just come from your shapeshifting lessons?”

One of the snow maidens - huh, apparently there were three - raised one hand, cringing faintly when Jack looked at her. “Uh, we - my sisters and I - we were, ah… not.”

“Not everyone can do everything,” Jack said, and set the large snowball aside. “So, what do you kids think about WINTER?”

One of the shorter half-ravens - mustn’t have quite mastered shifting back yet - piped up.  “It’s - _big_.”

“It is.” And getting bigger. They’d better leave his office alone!

_Well, maybe without the giant crack in the ceiling…_

Another baby agent piped up.  Another kit.  “Um, sir.  How - how long have you been with…?”

Jack leaned back in his chair, eyebrows halfway to his hairline. “Sir? _Sir_? Did you just call me _sir_?” He grinned, completely unable to hide his amusement. “Oh, and you did -” he pointed at the first kitsune, “- too. I’m getting _respect_. This is _amazing_.” He grinned wider at their expressions. “I’ve been with WINTER for, what, two hundred and thirty-two years? And hardly any respect. You kids can stay.”

Another raven, only the feathers in her hair showing her species, giggled. “Bet things were different when you joined up, huh?”

“A bit,” he admitted. “Less paperwork, for one thing.” He looked at the papers on his desk, and made a face. 

The baby agents giggled.

“Hey, you kids wanted a story, right? How about I tell you how I got ‘volunteered’ for WINTER?” he asked, even doing the air quotes for their benefit.

They were very enthusiastic in their agreement.

“Well then, it was back in, oh… 1748?  Right, well -”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**All Souls’ Day, Saturday, 2 Nov 1748** **\-- South Pole, Antarctica, Evening**

Jack hunched his shoulders, staff clutched to his chest. “So, uh. Where, uh, what is all this?”

He’d figured this ‘Winter’ group would be spread out, maybe a bunch of tents or huts all across an ice field or something. He hadn’t expected Kernunnos to take him to a glacier, then to a door in the glacier, and then into a kind of corridor inside the glacier.

There were a lot of people working, like the humans did when they were putting up a new building. Only these were spirits - a _lot_ of spirits - and they all turned and _looked_ at him. He would've been fine with just the staring, probably, except - they whispered too. They kept quiet when they did, and between that and the staring…

“Am I in trouble?” Jack asked hesitantly, the discomfort from the staring and whispering overcoming his shy nervousness.

Kernunnos glanced over his broad shoulders at Jack trailing behind him, a faint smile playing across his face.

“No, Jack Frost.  You are not, but there is someone - several someones - I would like you to meet.  As for your first question this,” he replied, pausing as he turned to walk backwards and gesture outward grandly. “Is - or, rather, will be, once complete - the Fortress.”

“Fortress,” Jack repeated, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you people need a fortress for? What do you people even _do_?”

Kernunnos’ smile widely marginally.  “For the answer to that, you will need to speak with -”  He spun around and threw open a set of doors that Jack swore hadn’t been there a moment before.  “The Regents.  Come, they await your presence.”

 _Regents?_ Jack clutched his staff tighter. “Are you sure I’m not in trouble?” he whispered. 

Kernunnos paused in his walking and turned, slowly reaching out, as if trying to avoid startling Jack, and gripped his shoulder in a friendly way.  “I promise.”

He then turned and gestured for Jack to continue following him.

Jack ducked his head, and entered the room.

The corridor had been busy, with scaffolding against the walls and workmen - work spirits? - clambering over every surface, but in here, things were clearly finished. The floor looked like textured ice, the walls looked like carved ice - a _lot_ of ice - and there were three people standing at the other side of the surprisingly small throne room. He’d have expected echoes, maybe a half-mile hike across, but instead it was maybe twenty feet along each wall.

The room was square, and while the center was empty, there was plenty of stuff along the walls. Jack looked around, unsure if he was relieved no one spoke immediately to him, or worried.

The doors slamming ominously shut behind him of their own volition didn’t help.

The wall behind him had several potted plants, evergreens, and what probably was meant to be a fountain, except that the water had frozen solid. There were bookcases, brimming with books of all shapes and sizes, and low, fluffy-looking couches to his left; the wall to his right had a lot of doors, and directly ahead, three people stood around a globe of some kind, covered in glowing lights.

The three people looked… not how he had expected, much like the rest of this ‘fortress’ place.

There was one woman, dressed- well, like a man. She wore leather trousers, heavy leather boots that were apparently lined with fur; he couldn’t tell what kind of shirt she wore, because she had a heavy wool coat on. The coat was a dark blue, close to navy but lighter, and her hair was pale silver at the roots, darkening to black at the tips. She had a short, silvered mace poking out from beneath the coat, apparently slung from her belt.

The first of the two men was dressed almost exactly like the woman, in leather trousers, winter boots, and a heavy woolen coat, although his coat was black, trimmed with silver, and he carried a sword. He wore an odd kind of fur hat, covering his hair completely. Despite the sharply trimmed goatee, he looked friendly enough, if kind of bland.

The second man, however, looked kind of crazy.  

He was taller than the other two, head and shoulders over them both. He wore close fitting leather trousers, which had been dyed black somehow, and a black knit sweater - also closely fit. Belts wrapped crosswise across his chest, making an x, and two short throwing axes had been hung off the belts, one to either side. A short sword hung at his hip. Over it all, he wore a leather coat that reached down to his ankles, which was - Jack almost snorted - also black.

Crazy guy had a theme color, apparently.

Crazy guy was also missing an eye, Jack realized, when the three of them finally turned to look at him. The other two still had both of their eyes.

And then Jack realized who the crazy guy was.

“ _Odin?_ ” Jack blurted, voice shrill.

Crazy guy - _Odin!_ \- smiled, in an almost - almost _fatherly_ \- way and nodded.

“Jack Frost. Manny’s newest chosen. Figured you’d get here sooner or later…” He paused, and pulled several gold coins out of his coat pocket. He handed them to the other man. “Shouldn’t have bet on later.”

Jack spluttered.  “You - what?”

“Shouldn’t have bet on later. Someone like you? Smart, curious, _strong_? Personally, I figured you’d hit a century before you started noticing the dark things, hiding away in the corners and under rocks.” He shrugged. “But that’s what I get for underestimating you. Out a bit of gold and have to say, Frost, I am impressed.”

“Me, _strong?_ You, impressed?” Jack spluttered again.  “Okay, I’m officially confused.”

Odin shook his head. “You know how many of my people could’ve handled that many satyrs on their own? In that short a period? I can count ‘em on one hand, and three are in this room. And you.”

“But, but I had the Wind helping me!  She -”

“She?” Odin lifted his head like a hound scenting the air. “You speak with the Wind?”

“I - yes.  Doesn’t everybody?” Jack asked, perplexed.

“She’s a picky lady. Tell me… can you _see_ her?” Odin narrowed his eye, staring intently at Jack.

“I - well, yes,” he admitted, after a moment.  He felt like a five-year-old being, well, not _scolded_ by his father, but - something close.  “Is that strange?”

Odin looked first at the woman, then at the other man. “Interesting,” he said. “Give us the room?”

The other two nodded, and headed for the doors. They each took a different one.

“I’ll be right outside, Jack,” Kernunnos whispered reassuringly before stepping back out the way they’d come.

It was a small comfort, given that he barely knew the other guy, but, all the same, he _was_ the one Jack had spent the most time with so far.  It did make him feel better, if only a little.

“Right then.” Odin walked forward, once all the doors had closed and they were alone. “Jack, what do you know of our world?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Our world - our planet - seems big, but really, it’s not. There’s all the humans running about; more and more of them every year. There’s us spirits, too. Some of us - most of us - aren’t that powerful. A dryad of a single tree, a faun of a single field. Then there’s those spirits that are _more_ than that.

“Great spirits, demi-gods even - they have the power to shake the world down to its foundations.” Odin gestured at the globe behind him. “You see those lights? Every last one of them’s a spirit, a powerful one. Nature spirits, mostly. Or demons.”

Jack shuddered; there were a _lot_ of lights on that globe.  “Demons?”

“Demons.” Odin nodded. “They want to end our world. They came from somewhere - some world - else. Can’t go back. Them? They’re more comfortable with fire and brimstone, which is in painfully short supply on this planet so long as the powerful spirits are in place. They started a campaign, back in the days of _my_ forefathers, to eliminate everything that lived here. Every last man, woman, and child. Every last tree, every last shrub, every last blade of grass. All the animals, _everything_.” 

“What - what does this have to do with me?” Jack asked, voice small.  It all seemed so _big_.

Odin didn’t seem to notice Jack’s nerves. “The old Norse. The Vanir, my own people the Aesir. We fought them from the beginning, protected the humans in our part of the world, and were worshiped as gods for it. So did other spirits powerful enough to do so - the Greek Gods of Olympus were a few, if you’ve heard of them. Only as time passed, our efforts weren’t enough. We lost people.”

He turned, and seemed to brood over the globe. “Good people. Humans called it Ragnarok, the great war and the end of the time of the gods. Before that, it didn’t matter if they believed we existed or not - we could speak with them, touch them… After, well, spirits, demons, belief had to come first. And we started losing.

“Some spirits have a wider influence than most. Mother Nature, Father Time, Bunnymund… If they go, eventually the whole world does. There was some talk about banding together, fighting as a group, but most of the people weren’t interested.” Odin gestured at the globe again, and snorted. “I gathered my people, the survivors of Ragnarok, joined up with a few other survivors of other pantheons, and we decided we’d do whatever it took to keep our world spinning.

“And so, Jack, we created WINTER - Winter Intelligence, Tactical Espionage, and Response. We guard the powerful spirits of the world. Whether they know it, whether they want our guardianship, or not. We gather people like you, with your drive to protect others. And we keep the world spinning, one fight at a time.”

“You - you want me?  To help fight the - the demons and stuff?” Jack asked, wide-eyed and more than a bit awed.

“Didn’t make that speech just for the sound of my own voice.”

Jack glanced at the globe and stared at the lights for a long moment, considering the offer.  Then his jaw set and his gaze firmed.

“What would you have me do?” he asked, voice steady now, not taking his gaze off of the globe.

“Each of these lights has a team assigned to them. Shepherds, Lords, and Knights. But you… I think I’ll give you our trickiest Charge yet. He’s stubborn, able to slip his watchers even without realizing they’re there, and gets into more trouble than you. He’s a good fighter, which is the only reason he’s survived this long, he’s ducked his assigned Knights so often. If he goes, though - he’s _life_ itself.  I don’t think I need to explain that one to you.”

Jack shook his head.  “Who is he?”

_He sounds amazing._

“E. Aster Bunnymund. Last of the Pooka, Guardian of Hope and Life, and currently with the title of Easter Bunny.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


The office door banged open.

“Jack!  I’ve fixed your staff - what’s all this then?” Weyland bellowed, at his usual volume.  “Been telling the youngsters stories again?”

“Baby agents need to know what they’re getting into,” Jack said, and grinned. He waved one hand at Weyland. “Kids, meet the Forgemaster. He makes the gear.”

“Hello, kids.  Now, off with you; Jack and I need to talk shop,” Weyland smiled as he addressed the younger agents, gesturing at the door.  As the last of them filed out, he turned back to Jack.  “What did I tell you the last time you played with fire?  This is the _third_ volcano, Jack!  I’m seeing a pattern here; are you making this into a habit?”

“Ice spirit,” Jack pointed out, and laughed. “Nah, but it was handy.” He sobered for a moment. “Do you… know how many people were hurt, when it blew?”

“...fifty-seven,” Weyland replied soberly.  “On the other hand, since the ol’ gal blew out her side initially, the bulk of the pyroclastic material was sent into a lower population area.  So there’s that.” He chuckled lightly.  “Did you hear that one crazy old coot refused to leave his cabin, even though it was directly in the path of the blast?  Said something about how he’d built the place and he’d die with the place.”

“He died?” Jack ducked his head. “And this is supposed to make me feel better?”

“Jack… you did good, kid.  Tesso was one right nasty son of a bitch.  Saved more lives by executing him,” Weyland replied gently.  “Now, buck up!  I know just the thing to cheer you up!”

It took him a moment, but Jack managed to shake most of the mood off. “Alright. Hit me.”

Weyland first set Jack’s staff down on the desk.  “Good as new.  No more char marks, or that ugly crack.  Takes quite a bit to fix a break, you know. Also -”

 _Thunk_.  A pile of paperwork.

 _Figures_.

“Father Frost has more paperwork I need done.”

“We’re off Orange Alert?” Jack picked up the first page, and sighed. “Who came up with this stuff, anyways? Used to be just the Quartermaster had to fill this nonsense out.” He put the paper down again. “Don’t you miss those days, Wey? When we weren’t a spy agency, but an army?”

Weyland’s eyes grew distant for a moment as he replied, “Aye, lad.  I miss my days as Völundr.  That is the past, however.  We should focus on the present, no?”

Before Jack could reply, Kern burst into the room.

“Jack, I’ve got more paperwork for you on that VEI 5 you caused in Washington.  St. Helens deposited ash in eleven states - Weyland!  It’s been a while!” Kern paused in his distracted rambling as he looked up from the paperwork he was carrying.  “What brings you up here?”

“ _More_ paperwork?” Jack groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Wait, only eleven states? Here I thought it’d be worse.” It was a real good thing this wasn’t his usual office. That one… two people could fit, but only if they were _really_ good friends.

Kern chuckled.  “This one only caused $1.1 billion in property damages.  You’ve done worse.”

“Don’t remind me,” he joked.

Kern and Weyland exchanged a few pleasantries while Jack leafed through the pages already on his desk.  He was dreading the addition of the large stack Kern was carrying.

“Well, Jack, I’ll be off.  Got much to do down in the Forge.  Could you _please_ be more gentle with your staff?  I worry that one day you’ll break her in two.  Not sure what I’ll do with her then.  You still sure you don’t want a metal core?”

“It’d mess with the magic, Weyland, you know that. Anyways.” Jack caressed the old wood. “Haven’t broken it yet. And you made sure I’m not tied as tightly, so it only twinges at me when it’s damaged.”

Weyland nodded, smiling, as he made his exit.  Jack turned to Kern.

“Hey!  What’d I tell you about leaving the fires burning unattended?” Weyland bellowed from the hallway.

 _Looks like his assistant wandered off again,_ Jack thought, amused, as he shared a grin with Kern.

“Sometimes I wonder how they haven’t burnt everything down around our ears yet,” he admitted. “So. Other than the paperwork… What’s up?”

“Firstly, I’ve got all this paperwork.” Kern grunted as he set it down on Jack’s desk.  “Secondly, that form on top?  Brand new.  Just for you and your volcanoes.”

“Is… is this going to become a thing? The volcano jokes? Because it’s not like I do it on purpose. They’re just… _there_.”

“Convenient, yes.  I know.  As I recall, I suggested the first one to you.  Remind me never to do that again?” Kern replied, grinning for a moment before his eyes lit up.  He poked his head out into the corridor and, seeing no one, closed the door.  He turned back to Jack with enough heat in his eyes that Jack blushed.

“Lock the damn thing. Or - here.” He fumbled with his staff, then aimed a quick blast of energy at the doorknob. “There. So, uh… Hey.”

“ _Hey_ , yourself, Jack,” Kern purred as he sauntered across the room, shedding what little clothing he usually wore.  “I think you need a … _break_.”

Jack grinned, and shoved his chair away from the desk. “Going to give me one?” he asked. “Just remember we’re not in the back hallway anymore, people can hear us…”

“Well… Quetza’s office _is_ right next door…”

Jack laughed.  “Serves him right then.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corgi's Anecdotes:  
> [Wayland the Smith](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volundr), also known as Völundr in Old Norse, is a legendary smith who appears in various sagas.  
> The [Mount St. Helens eruption](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mt_st_helens) ocurred on May 18, 1980 at 8:32 AM PDT. It was _extremely_ destructive, which measured a 5 on the [Volcanic Explosivity Index](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volcanic_Explosivity_Index) (or a VEI 5), or of the same scale as the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 AD that destroyed Pompeii.
> 
> A word from Kayasurin:  
> "Yes, for confirmation Kern and Jack have a thing at this point in time. They work together in a somewhat, shall we say, _challenging_ field. So no, Jack did not 'wait' for Bunny, nor is he virgin. At _this_ point in time, he has no reason to wait. Do Jack and Kern care about each other? Yes. Is it an exclusive relationship? No - think more friends with benefits. Kern's a former fertility god, he's very good at what he does, and then there's the deer aspect. No worries for everyone fretting over the Jackrabbit, though, it's definitely going to be a thing. Friends with benefits don't last very long, but at least in this case won't end in tears."


	3. Chapter 3

**Good Friday, 6 April 2012 -- Burgess, Pennsylvania, 7:38 pm local time**

Jack laughed, and created a ramp with a quick twist of will. The sled- and passenger- sped up and then off, and soared through the air. It was beautiful, like one of those Olympic gold medal jumps, junior version. Gravity, jealous lady that she was, claimed her mortal prize soon enough, and Jamie did an _epic_ belly flop into a heap of loose snow. Jack floated over, and grinned down at the kid as he all but levitated a second time, cheeks flushed with enthusiasm and excitement.

“It was amazing! I slid- I did a jump and I slid under a car-” he babbled to his friends. Jack opened his mouth- and then winced when the forgotten couch slammed into the poor kid.

“Whoops.” Yeah. He hadn’t meant for _that_ to happen. One of these days he was going to have to learn how to balance ‘cutting loose’ with ‘playing safely’. Clearly, not _today_ , but… eventually.

Jamie’s group of friends all cringed, and edged closer. Jack tilted his head to peer down at the poor schmuck.

Then Jamie popped up, a lost tooth clasped in one mittened hand. “Cool! A tooth!”

“Hey!” Claude? Caleb? One of them, anyways. “Dude, that means cash! Tooth Fairy cash!” The other twin grinned, all but bouncing on his toes. “I love the Tooth Fairy!”

Jack made a face that absolutely wasn’t pouting, whatever Kern might say. “Oh, no…”

He trailed along after the kids, as they chattered like a flock of geese. “That’s totally awesome,” and “You lucky bug,” and just plain “Lucky!” filled the air.

“No!” Jack scowled, and ducked around to look at the kids in the face.

Jamie studied the small tooth balanced on his mittened palm. “I gotta put this under my pillow!”

“I wish I lost my tooth,” one of the other children said.  Jack was too distracted to note which.

“Ah, wait a minute!” Jack waved his arms, as if that would help. “Come on, hold on, hold on! What about all that fun we just had? That wasn’t the Tooth Fairy, that was me!”

Was it too damn much to ask for someone to notice his efforts?

“I lost two teeth in one day once- remember that?” Jack huffed. Yeah? And? 

“What are you gonna spend your money on?” One of the girls asked Jamie. “What are you gonna buy? How much do you think she’s going to leave?”

_A quarter, kid…_

Jack clenched one fist. He couldn’t help it- the frustration had to go somewhere. Better, safer, just to shove it into the clouds. The weather was calling for snow anyways. Flakes began to fall, as the sky darkened. Evening’s snowfall was coming early.

The kids chattered to each other about the cold, and how their toes had gone numb, and how their ears were freezing, and it just wasn’t fair! Winter was a beautiful time of year! He jumped in front of the group.

“What’s a guy gotta do to get a little attention around here!”

Of course, Jamie ran right through him.

Jack gasped, and clutched his staff tightly. It felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest, it was pounding so hard. Ouch. Very much ouch. For a long, long moment he couldn’t hear or see anything, just the overly loud sound of his pulse and stars in his eyes.

It passed, it always did. Jack’s shoulders slumped. While he’d been struggling to control his reaction and maybe not fall to the ground in pain, the kids had walked on, not seeing him.

Never seeing him.

He pulled his hood up, and took to the air. At least up in the sky no one could walk through him.

He was startled by a snowball flying entirely too close not a minute later.  He followed its trajectory back to its source and -

“Jack?” Kern called, a look of concern plastered across his face.  “Want to talk?”

Jack huffed, and dropped down to the rooftop. “Maybe. Saw all that, huh?”

Kern smirked faintly.  “I’d just come to check on you.  That was an awesome slide.”

“The take off was great, but the landing… not so much.”

“Could use some work, yeah.  Y’know, it will get easier to bear, being walked through.  I know how that goes.  It came as quite the shock the first time, after having been worshiped as a god for so long.  You’ll get your first believers, I’m sure.  In time.  ‘All things, in their time,’ as the old man likes to say.”

“Since when has he said that?” Jack did his best to perk up. “All I’ve ever heard from him is ‘Stop trying to force it or I’ll show you the back of my hand, boy.’ Showing your age, Kern?”

“That’s just you.  And - hey!” Kern bumped Jack’s shoulder with his.  “Smart ass.”

“You know it. So, any reason you’re cutting my half-day of freedom short?”

Kern sobered.  “North set off the Aurora.  Phil reported in, and Quetza confirmed it at the Palace.  Raijin and Izanami reported that Bunny took off for the Workshop.  Hypnos is watching from the Dreaming, so he’s out of touch, as usual.”

“Right. Time to hang about the Workshop making Phil’s non-Shepherds nervous.” Jack sighed, and twirled his staff in a quick circle. “That’s fun.”

“Actually, the old man sent word - there’s been a sighting of… something… out here and he wants you to keep watch.  There’s rumors that… well, _Pitch_ , is active again.”

“Something? Pitch?” He leaned on his staff. “Kern, if you think I need more of a break, just _say_ so. No need to make stuff up.”

Kern snorted.  “It’s true!  Well, that there’s a rumor, anyway.  I’m sure we’ll get filled in on the meeting once it’s over.  Phil’s got his Shepherds hanging around the platform, doing ‘maintenance.’”

“Fine, fine.” Jack waved one hand. “I’ll stick around and keep an eye out. Not like Bunny will do anything but go back to his Warren after the meeting. Easter’s in… Two days? One? Stupid international date line…”

Kern chuckled.  “I’ll call -” he tapped his ear, where the tiny modern bud was hidden.  “If anything happens.”

“Bunny mentioning my name in his grumblings doesn’t count.”

“Not even if it’s followed by ‘do me, do me now?’” Kern cackled as he jumped off the rooftop.

“Don’t even joke about that!” Jack swung his staff at Kern’s head as he flew after, not entirely mockingly. “Besides, it’d never happen - stop running away and face me like a man!”

Kern ran away, laughing.  When he hit the forest, he ran right into a tree and disappeared.

_Stupid plant-based teleportation powers._

Jack pulled up to hover in midair. Kern’s mocking comment of - well, of Bunny _ever_ saying _anything_ like that - hit a little close to home, which the cervid-man knew. Idiot. Jack couldn’t help the way he felt, though!

Nor did he want to.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Friday, 23 June 1989 -- The Warren, Beneath Australia, 8:54 am local time**

  
  


Jack reclined, almost entirely at his ease in the tree. The thing was what’d be called a forest giant under other circumstances, big enough around that Jack, Kern, and his two Shepherds probably couldn’t have circled it and have their fingers touch. The trees stood alone in this part of the Warren, providing shade for the hilltop and down to the bank of the river. The branches were thick enough for one skinny boy to lie back, and have room to spare on either side - not much, granted, but it was _to spare_ \- and there were enough leaves to keep said boy hidden from the Warren’s inhabitant.

Said inhabitant was too distracted by his work to notice Jack, even if the winter spirit had started doing naked cartwheels in the grass right beside him. Bunny was crouched over, taking notes on a variant of some flower or other - all Jack had heard were Latin noises pretending to be words when Bunny had been muttering earlier. He knew, from sneaking peeks at other such notes, that Bunny’s writing would be a cramped, barely legible scribble, that it would slant up towards the right corner of the notebook, and that it’d be mixed with odd circles bisected by lines.

Bunny was wearing half-moon, wire rimmed glasses.

Jack absolutely didn’t want to go down there and coo over the picture the lagomorph made. No. Not at all. Not even a little bit.

Even if it was kind of cute.

Jack rolled his staff between his hands, and tilted his head to the side. Bunny leaned over, until his face was all but making imprints in the soil. Studying roots or whatever? It looked like a really awkward position, with his rear in the air like that, but who knew what overgrown rabbits found comfortable?

_The view from up here’s not bad…_ he mused.

“Hey, Jack.  Enjoying the view?” Kern’s voice whispered at his ear while the cervid’s hand covered Jack’s mouth.

Jack’s entire body seized, though he was too professional to even try to yell. Once his heart started working again, he aimed an elbow back into Kern’s ribs, then nipped at the man’s fingers.

Kern pulled his hand away, chuckling softly.  “You know I like it when you bite.  That doesn’t work on me.”

“What gives?” Jack twisted to stare at Kern. “Thought it was your day off?”

“I’ve been watching you.  Watch him.  Ogle him, more like.”

“Have not,” he muttered. “Watch, sure, those three jokers from Easter might have friends…”

Kern rolled his eyes and did - something - that made the leaves sway slightly.  “There.  Now they’re blocking all sound.  Look, Jack.  I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this.  I can see it plainly; it’s one of those things you pick up as a fertility god after so many millennia.”

“This is building up to one of your supposed-to-be epic talks, isn’t it?”

“It’s important.  For you.  I’ve been watching you, the last few years.”

“Doing more than just watch.”

Kern smirked.  “You’re a regular little spitfire in bed.  Of course I did more than watch.  Now, stop trying to distract me.”

“Stop being so easy to distract! Not my fault you’ve got a one-track mind.”

“And you - no, stop.  Not falling for it this time.  I’m serious here.  Just think about it.  You’ve gotten even more obsessive in the last few years, when it comes to him.  Particularly this duty - Warren Watch.  You _hate_ Warren Watch.  Told me it was boring not two decades ago.”

Jack looked away. “Well, boring has it’s upsides. Fewer volcanoes going boom, you know.”

Kern nudged Jack’s shoulder good-naturedly.  “True.  But it also means more time that you get to stare at his ass, or his nice, strong arms, or his powerful legs… see where I’m going with this?”

“Kern…” Jack smiled, bright and meaningless. “If you’ve got a crush, you should probably try talking to him.”

Kern slapped the back of Jack’s head.  “Not me, you moron.   _You_.”

“Me - I don’t -” He _couldn’t_. Bunny was his Charge, not his… and besides, WINTER was coming up with new regulations all the time, including stuff that was supposed to keep fraternization in bed to a minimum. Which meant no nookie with the Charge. Besides, Bunny thought he was nothing but an unrepentant prankster with a bad habit of showing up where he wasn’t wanted.

“Have you lost your marbles?” he asked the cervid, barely keeping his voice down.

“Nope.  I even checked my suspicions with one of my old friends.” By which Jack knew he meant an old god, like himself.  “You’re totally, hopelessly, well… you know.  And I _know_ you know what I mean and why I’m saying it.  If you’d just _think_!”

Jack stared at his spinning staff. “... Maybe.” It wasn’t _fair_. “I’m sorry.”

Kern patted him on the back and carefully bumped their foreheads together.  “No need to apologize, Jack.  You can’t help where your feelings take you.  And, I have to admit… he’s a pretty good catch, if you can bag him.  No one’s tapped that tail in longer than I’ve been alive!”

Jack gave him a sour look. “Do you have to always… never mind, you’re you. Yes. You do have to make everything about sex.”

“Fertility god.  Duh,” Kern replied, sassy smirk firmly in place.

“Okay, fine. I’m… I’m in love, Polaris help me. With my Charge. Now what? Drop down on him sometime and get blown off before I can say two words? He doesn’t like me, Kern, and I sure can’t waste the time it’d take to prove I’m something other than an irresponsible prankster. Either I’m working or it’s my half-day, and I’m _not_ giving up my snowball fights and sled races.”

“I know.  You need what little time off you take.  If we had someone else to watch him -”

“We don’t. It’d take Father Frost himself, and he’s busy.” Jack sighed. “I suppose I - we could always let it be obvious I’m saving him from something nasty, but… I don’t want to go that route. I don’t know why.”

“Besides the fact it breaks regs, yeah.  It’s too blatant.  You’ve got to get him over his dislike for you first.   _Then_ impress him.”

“First comes respect, then comes friendship, then comes love.” Jack nodded with every word, the old Kitsune mantra. Sex, obviously, had been left out of the progression, since they didn’t really care when it happened or with who. Kitsune were pretty relaxed when it came to that sort of attitude.

Kern had a sly look in his eyes; that never boded well.  The last time Jack had listened to a ‘sly look’ suggestion, he’d set off his first _volcano_.

“Whatever it is, no.  Just no.”

Kern mock sighed and grinned, before sobering.  “Knowing you, this realization also probably spells the death of our casual relationship, doesn’t it?”

“I…” Jack stopped spinning his staff. “Yeah. Yeah, it… it wouldn’t feel right. I’m sorry, Kern.”

Kern offered him a friendly hug.  He took it.

“I wouldn’t have poked at you about this if I wasn’t sure.  I knew this was a likely outcome, so I chose the time and place to make it easier on both of us.  You’re feelings come first.  Always.  You know that, while we never got all romance-y, you’re my favorite, right?”

“I know.” Jack tightened his grip around Kern’s neck. “You’re my best friend, Kern. I’m sorry it can’t be more. You deserve more.”

Kern whispered in his ear.  “So do you.  And it’s right behind you.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Good Friday, 6 April 2012 -- Burgess, Pennsylvania, 9:52 pm local time**

  
  


Jack skipped away from the streams of golden sand. No one had contacted him about Bunny’s return to the Warren, but he’d check in by midnight, Burgess time. He had his ‘patrol’ to do. Nice of Kern to get him on the rumor. He’d needed the time off Guard duty, he supposed. Being so close to Bunny, yet so far… not that he was going to break out the angsty poetry any time soon, but either he needed to lose his feelings or something had to change.

Maybe he could throw a bouquet of flowers at the rabbit’s head, next time he had to distract Bunny from another rescue? It’d been almost fifty years, they were due a bigger bad trying something stupid…

Gray fur streaked along at the corner of his eyes, and he spun to look at - gone.

_Bunny?_

He knew that blur anywhere.  He’d gone… that way. Jack trailed after the rabbit, ending up in an alley behind the local arcade. Jack had spent many a summer’s evening watching the kids play the games, when he’d had the time.

_Focus._

Something knocked over one of the trash cans. A raccoon, a cat - or the last of the Pooka.

Jack backed up into the scant light offered by the street lights, staff at the ready just in case.

“Hello, mate,” came Bunny’s voice from behind him.

_Of course._

Jack turned around, mock-ready to fight.

“Been a long time. Blizzard of 68, I believe? Easter Sunday, wasn't it?” the Pooka said offhandedly, although his expression belied the blithe words.

Jack blinked, and eased up on the aggressive stance. “Bunny?” Oh, he was going to have _words_ with Kern and the Kitsune… How’d they lose track of _one_ over-sized rabbit - again! “You’re not still mad about that, are you?”

“Yes.” Stern look.

_Crap._

Bunny whipped out a boomerang and casually examined it for nicks. “But this is about something else.” He paused for a moment, seemingly finding an odd nick.  “Fellas.”

A giant hand clamped down on his shoulder. Jack yelped, hauled off his feet by - by -

“Durbha wahla!” Yettish. Code phrase. One of Phil’s.  Sounded like Bob.  Which meant the other one was Bill.

He was being _kidnapped_ by two of Phil’s Shepherds.

“Put me down!” he snapped. “What the -”

_A sack?  They’re tossing me in a sack? Of_ all _the hare-brained - this_ has _to be North’s idea!_

As the sack closed around him, he mock-struggled.  Bunny was here, after all; can’t be too compliant.

“Durtal bardla burdlew,” he heard vaguely from outside the bag. He also heard a faint woosh, like one of North’s portals opening up. “Dwbard urghwetee.”

_I hate portals._

Bunny spoke up. “Me?” He laughed. It was a nice sound. “Not on your nelly. See you back at the pole.”

Jack could hear Bunny double-tap his footpaw and then, presumably, he was gone, especially since -

“Bwardla arghl?” one of the Yeti’s - Bill - asked him.   _Are you okay?_

“Peachy,” he growled. “Let’s get this over with.”

He felt the Yeti holding his bag shrug and then toss him through the portal. He yelled in automatic protest at the feeling of being sucked through a straw, nose first.

_I really,_ really _hate portals… going to have to talk to Phil about North’s ‘ideas,’ aren’t I?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "And you were all worried." -grin-
> 
> Corgi's Ramblings: "And now, the _fun_ begins."


	4. Chapter 4

**Good Friday, 6 April 2012 -- Santa’s Workshop, North Pole, 11:58 pm local time**

Jack hit the floorboards with a low thump. Bob - or Bill - hadn’t thrown the sack that hard. Even with a bunch of fabric over his head, he could hear voices.

Quasi-familiar voices, and if he didn’t know the speakers, he did know their guards…

The woman’s voice talking about teeth had to be the Tooth Fairy, Quetzalcoatl’s Charge. And someone said “he’s here” - not Bunny, wrong accent, and the Sandman didn’t talk, so between that and the yeti - North. Not the hardest bit of deduction he’d ever done.

Jack rolled his eyes, and then made a show of getting out of the sack. The two elves watching him seemed to have been waiting. Phil complained about the little monsters all the time, the same way big, tough men complained about little, yappy dogs they were secretly fond of. It always made Jack laugh during the meetings.

“Hey, there he is! Jack Frost!”

North held his arms out towards Jack, a little like a Twenties starlet looking for a hug. Jack looked over to the side, at the Sandman, who formed a dreamsand snowflake above his head.

“Wow, you gotta be kidding me.” Seriously. Where was the joke?

Two yeti - Bob and Bill - grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him up to his feet. Well, he supposed it was more dignified to be standing instead of kneeling, but c’mon. A little warning, yeah? “Hey, hey. Whoa, put me down.”

North chuckled, and said, “I hope the yetis treated you well?”

“Oh, yeah. I love being shoved in a sack and tossed through a magic portal.” Jack made sure the sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife, and he saw one of the yeti at the back of the room, a non-Shepherd, wince. North seemed oblivious.

He laughed, making his belly shake. “Oh, good! That was _my_ idea! You know Bunny, obviously.”

“Obviously.” The irony wasn’t painful, no, not at all…

Bunny was leaning against a column off to the side, arms crossed and grumbling. Always, with the grumbling, whenever he was around. Why did he think he’d ever have a chance?

Jack looked away, so he didn’t have to have his nose rubbed in reality, and almost jumped when he caught sight of all the mini-tooths hovering in the air. Staring at him. _Really_ intently.

“And the Tooth Fairy?” North continued, blithely unaware of Jack’s discomfiture. Tooth was instantly in front of him. How did she - ?

“Hello, Jack. I’ve heard a lot about you. And your teeth.”

“My, my what?”

She moved in way too close, like someone who’d never heard of the concept ‘personal space.’ “Open up! Are they really as white as they say? Yes!” Her _fingers_ were in his _mouth_! “Oh, they really do sparkle like freshly fallen snow.”

Jack pulled away, and frowned at the squealing mini-fairies. Quetza had forgotten to mention his charge’s apparent insanity when it came to teeth. Jack was going to have to have words with that guy…

_Extra training for him, after this._

“Girls, pull yourselves together… let’s not disgrace the uniform.” Tooth giggled, and looked a little sheepish.

“And Sandman.” It was then that North noticed that the Sandman had dozed off. Hypnos had told Jack that that happened quite often, when Sandy wasn’t working. “Sandy! Sandy! Wake up!”

Sandy bolted awake and stepped towards Jack, smiling. Well, he looked friendly, but Jack hadn’t expected any different. Still...

“Hey! Ho! Anyone wanna tell me why I’m here?”

Sandy’s dreamsand flew into action faster than Jack could follow. Little guy could talk _fast_ just not - clearly.

“That’s not really helping. But thanks, little man.” He turned to the others. “I must’ve done something really bad to get you four together.”

He walked away from the group, and absently frosted an elf within reach of his staff as it walked past. Where was Phil? They really needed to talk. Not in the room, clearly, so he turned around and raised his eyebrows at the Guardians. He actually did have a question for North, one quite a bit of money was riding on.

“Am I on the naughty list?”

North chuckled even as his expression turned serious for a moment. “On naughty list? You hold record! But no matter. We overlook. Now we are wiping clean the slate.”

That wasn’t weird. Nope. Not at _all_.

“How come?” He eyed Bill, and quirked an eyebrow momentarily. Those five hundred dollars were _his_ , hah!

“Ah, good question,” Bunny half-snarked offhandedly at North.

“How come? I tell you how come! Because now… you are Guardian!” North announced grandly and then -

It seemed like there were suddenly yeti everywhere Jack looked, all carrying flaming torches like the cliché mob storming the monster’s castle. All that were missing were the pitchforks. Elves, too, leapt from the columns supporting the ceiling, a less suicidal stunt than he’d first thought. Banners unfurled after them.

Several mini-fairies tried to drape a necklace of paper snowflakes over his head, but he brushed them off. Nicely.

“This is the best part!” North boomed, oblivious to Jack’s growing irritation. Would the old Cossack never learn to read body language?

_Maybe remedial lessons?_

Elves… actually, they weren’t bad with those instruments, but they looked absurd. Two yetis, non-Shepherds both, caught Jack up and bodily carried him over to a random spot in the middle of the floor. Jack looked down at a hint of off-key jangle, and scowled. Shoes. Why would these elves try to give him _shoes_ of all things?

Horrible invention, shoes. Weyland had tried to get him to wear combat boots once; _that_ hadn’t gone over well - what was that, a giant book? Or do they call those ‘tomes’?

North cradled the book in one hand, and began clearing his throat. Jack took the moment to look for Phil, but saw Bob and Bill, both of whom looked way too amused for the situation - _Traitors_. And the Guardians - well, North looked proud, the mini-fairies were sighing over Jack again, and Bunny… he looked over at Sandy.

Who was grinning like a fool. Oh, _Sandy_. Silly little man. Still, this was getting out of hand -

Jack slammed his staff down, with the twist of will that sent frost and wind across the room. The torches - thank Polaris - went out. “What makes you think I want to be a Guardian?”

North about looked ready to burst, he laughed so hard. “Of course you do! Music!”

The elves blared the trumpets again.

_Of course you do..._

“No music!” Jack glared at the elves, and smirked when one threw his trumpet to the ground. “Look, this is all very flattering, but ah… you don’t want me. You're all hard work and deadlines, and I'm snowballs and fun times. WINTER’s a full time job. I'm not a Guardian.”

_If they only knew._

“Yeah, that's exactly what I said!” Bunny declared.

_Ouch_. 

Tooth moved closer. “Jack… I don’t think you understand what it is we do.”

_Yes, in fact I do, but I can’t say that_. _Yay, lecture time._

She swooped down, and gestured at the big globe. It looked a lot like the one Father Frost used, only the lights were - of course - different.

“Each of those lights is a child,” she said. And then stuck her fingers in his mouth while he was distracted by North talking.

“Tooth… fingers out of mouth,” North instructed after a moment. Tooth obediently removed her hands with a muttered apology.

“Oh, sorry.” She backed up a bit. “They’re beautiful.”

Jack moved away from the globe, and back towards the center of the room. This was nice and all, but no one was explaining anything, and - oh, he was going to have to do paperwork about this, wasn’t he? Was there a form for ‘kidnapped by other Agent’s Charges and subjected to needless lecturing’?

_If there wasn’t already, there surely was going to be after this._

North cleared his throat. “Okay, no more wishy-washy! Pitch is out there doing who knows what!”

_Wait, what? The rumor was true?_

“You mean the Boogeyman?” Jack asked, playing dumb.

North lit up like Jack had scored some sort of important field goal or something. “Yes! When Pitch threatens us, he threatens them as well.”

_Oh, this is not happening._

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“I’m a bunny. The _Easter_ Bunny. People _believe_ in _me_.”

Jack tried hard not to feel hurt, but if anyone was going to get under his skin, it was Bunny. Always Bunny. And while he was still reeling from the concept of Manny _talking_ to others, but not him! It was just...

“Jack. Walk with me,” North cut in, trying to dispel the tension. Well, at least he _tried_.

Jack clenched his jaw, and followed North through the toy workshop. He’d heard about it from Phil, but he’d only ever gotten as far as the kitchen for a cup of tea. Business, work - neither of them had time for a guided tour. He glanced around as he bantered lightly with North, looking for Phil.

“Oh, don’t worry, I never got past the yetis,” he replied to North’s query as he _finally_ spotted Phil.

And then the Knight had the temerity to look shocked, as if he hadn’t known Jack had been _chosen_ by Manny, or… “Hey Phil.” He handsigned a quick _we need to talk_ at the Yeti, and continued to follow North.

Phil’s grumble in Yettish was answer enough, coded so the others wouldn’t catch on.

Jack kept his head down, metaphorically, and listened through North’s little speech. North was trying, clearly, being all friendly, but he already had one father figure, he didn’t need North trying to move in on that territory.

Besides, Jack’s adoptive old man was very involved with the young Agent’s life. Jack also figured him for making up that rumor about the Bermuda Triangle and why modern planes had stopped vanishing and Jack’s role in the whole thing, which was an entirely entertaining bundle of absolute lies. Fit the old geezer’s sense of humor, though. Sneaky, sly, and underhanded.

Jack was happily distracted by a sudden, colorful blur zooming past the fifth story window. Less happily, Bunny bounded down the hallway at the two of them, Sandy hard on his heels.

“We have a problem, mate!” Bunny glanced back over his shoulder. “Trouble at the Tooth Palace.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack caught Phil’s arm, and tugged him to the side. The others were busy watching the reindeer get hitched up to the sleigh.

“What the hell, Phil,” he hissed, keeping his voice low enough to avoid sharp, leporidae ears. “You’re not supposed to let me get blind-sided like this. And what is with North, anyways, it’s like he doesn’t know how to deal with people!” _Of course you do_ \- no, stop thinking about that.

“Blargl yathryl! Dokey toki?”

“He didn’t recognize sarcasm - nevermind, ask the Shepherds to explain. What’s this about me being chosen as a Guardian?”

Phil quickly briefed him on the whole thing earlier in the day, with the crystal and everything. _Figures._

“They’re going off that? Of all the…” he looked to the side, where the sleigh was almost ready. “I’m going with them. Tell Kern. He’ll know what to do. I’ll keep an eye on North for you too.”

Phil nodded his assent and dashed off - well, ‘dashed’ for a yeti.

Jack grinned, and then turned to join the others. Time to make a token protest about the transportation. “North, North! I told you, I’m not going with you guys! There is no way I’m climbing into some rickety old…” Jack cut off at the sound of hooves and snorting and - “... sleigh.”

_Whoa. They finally painted it._

A reindeer snorted and lunged sideways against the harness. Jack scrambled backwards, eyes wide. “Whoa!”

North clucked his tongue at the reindeer. “Hey! Moi deti, moi deti. Quiet, quiet.”

The sleigh finally came to a standstill. Sandy hopped right on up. Jack eyed the yeti running around, particularly Phil, but didn’t worry too much. It wasn’t like they were nailing on bits of the sleigh.

“Okay,” he said, “one ride, but that’s it.”

He hopped up. North smiled at him, and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Everyone loves the sleigh.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Saturday, 7 April 2012 -- Tooth Palace, Somewhere in India, 9:24 am local time**

Jack hadn’t been through the portal for more than two seconds before his earbud came to life.

“Jack? Oh thank the stars!” Quetza exclaimed, relief evident in his serpentine voice.

Jack tapped the bud twice to make it chirp - the unofficial signal for ‘can’t talk right now, go on’.

“Right. I see you, sitting next to him. I’m in the wind right now, trying to stop the nightmares from taking the fairies. Can you try to recover Ichtaca, Coaxoch, and Xochitl before they get captured? I’ll fly over and assist in a moment, once I fight off this herd over here.” 

That was all the warning he got before the sleigh was suddenly jostled by dozens, hundreds of black shapes. The nightmares. The other three, lacking Jack’s forewarning, exclaimed in surprise and horror. North continued to drive like a crazy man, but the madness worked for them here.

Jack looked around, and then cringed as he watched a nightmare snap up and swallow a mini-fairy. He looked again, and breathed a sigh of relief. The fairy was just visible through the black sand of the nightmare’s hide. Captured, not hurt. That was… workable.

“They’re taking the Tooth Fairies!” he yelled.

Why was he telling them? Sandy and Jack were the only ones capable of flying. He jumped off the sleigh, and felt Quetza fling him upwards, towards a lone fairy trying to escape a nightmare. Which one was that? Unpronounceable one, two, or three? Didn’t matter.

He caught the little fairy in one hand, and spun to avoid the nightmare. Quetza slipped away, no doubt to help other fairies. Jack dropped back into the sleigh. He opened his hand, and smiled reassuringly at the little Shepherd. “Hey little Baby Tooth, you okay?”

Baby Tooth nodded, and stopped shaking. They both looked forwards, and grinned fiercely as North steered the sligh towards the entrance of Tooth’s Palace.

“Damn it. We only got Xochitl. I can’t find the others anywhere! Quick, inside! They’re stealing the teeth too!” Quetzalcoatl hissed in his ear.

Jack clenched his teeth, and then suddenly found himself holding the reins. He looked at North, but the old Cossack was grinning, with swords in hand.

“Here, take over!”

Jack winced at Bunny’s stunned expression, as he snapped the reins. He was driving the sleigh! He, Jack Frost, was driving _the sleigh_! _Two_ bets he could collect on now!

“Hyah!”

Jack concentrated on driving, which- would have been easier if Quetza hadn’t been making angry noises in his earbud. He was aware of North yelling, of boxes clattering into the sleigh, of Bunny’s yelling the obvious- not so much the pillar right ahead of them.

“Jack, look out!”

Oooh, right, sleighs didn’t have as much clearance as he did. He pulled on the reins, and managed to guide the reindeer to a rough stop on a platform. Any landing you could walk away from was a good one. So, win!

“Tooth! Are you alright?” North called, drawing Jack’s attention to where she was flitting around the Palace.

Tooth looked over at them, visibly panicked. And angry. But mostly panicked. “They, they took my fairies! And the teeth! All of them! Everything is gone! Everything.”

She drooped all over. At least until Baby Tooth flew over to join her. At that, she brightened a little. Jack smiled. At least he’d managed that much.

“I have to say, this is very, very exciting.”

The voice, the very definition of ‘oily’, echoed around the open chamber. Jack looked up, and frowned when he caught sight of the man who could only be Pitch Black, the Boogieman. _He looks like a booger, too. Like something nasty that belongs in a wastebasket. Or a used-car salesman, they’re both pretty bad._

“The Big Four, all in one place. I’m a little star-struck,” Pitch continued mockingly, smarmy bastard that he was. “Did you like my show on the globe, North? Got you all together, didn’t I?”

Tooth darted after Pitch, but he melted into the shadows. Lacking a physical source to yell at, she spun in a circle as she shouted threats at him.

“Or what?” Pitch reappeared near one of the storage columns. “You’ll stick a quarter under my pillow?”

“Why are you doing this?” North asked, confusion evident in his voice.

_Of course_.

“Maybe _I_ want what you have. To be _believed_ in.”

Jack frowned, and stepped away from the Guardians a little. The guy sounded sincere, but so did every other manipulator in existence. 

Pitch vanished back into the shadows, and stepped out from behind yet another column. “Maybe,” he said, “I’m tired of hiding under beds.”

“Maybe that’s where you belong,” Bunny growled, two steps short of outright snarling.

_No, that wasn’t a flinch… keep telling yourself that, Jack._ How many times had Bunny said the winter spirit belonged on a lonely glacier, or something akin to that?

“Ah, go suck an egg, rabbit!” Pitch taunted blithely from beneath the platform, casually dodging Bunny’s swipe as he disappeared - again - into the shadows.

That guy needed a new schtick.

Pitch reappeared again across the way, pausing as he finally took notice of Jack. “Hang on, is that… _Jack Frost_?” he asked as he laughed. “Since when are you all so chummy?”

“What’s going on in there?” Quetza queried in his ear. “Are you still fighting? I’m outside trying to catch at least _one_ of these blasted nightmares.”

“We’re not, Pitch,” Jack replied, both to Pitch and Quetza. Two for one and no one the wiser. Score.

“Oh, fucking _damn it_!” Quetza’s angry hiss through the earbud made Jack’s ear ache from the volume.

Pitch chuckled. “Oh good.”

Jack turned and saw him - yet again - standing against a column. _Definitely needs a new schtick. When’s the last time he had an original idea, mammoths?_

Pitch continued speaking while Jack snarked at him mentally. “A neutral party. Then I'm going to ignore you. But, you must be used to that by now.”

Oh, _so_ tempting to reveal just how ‘neutral’ he was - but he flinched, too. The truth still hurt.

“Pitch! You shadow sneaking ratbag! Come here!” Bunny shouted as he bounded forward, placing himself slightly ahead and in front of Jack. Almost like - No. Bunny didn’t like Jack, not one bit. He also didn’t like to share, and Jack was _his_ verbal sparring partner.

Jack hung back while the others went after Pitch. Bunny almost caught the Boogieman, too, except for another slide into the shadows. Tooth stole one of Bunny’s boomerangs, and charged in rage.

Quetza’s hiss sounded exactly like static. “You’d think a warrior queen would know better than to keep her sword under the bed!”

Jack shook his head in fond exasperation as he felt Quetza’s wind form curl around his body. He lightly batted at the tendril of air that tried to sneak under his hoodie. Quetza was almost as bad as Kern, that way.

And had no idea of when it was improper.

Xoc-something or other - whatever, _Baby Tooth_ twittered at Quetza reproachfully from the relative safety of Jack’s hood.

Pitch caught Jack’s attention again when he muttered at a nightmare. Then he held up one hand, with dark sand twining about his fingers. He grinned at Sandy. “Look familiar, Sandman? Took me a while to perfect this little trick. Turning _dreams_ into _Nightmares_.”

His smile broadened as he turned his attention to the other Guardians. “Don’t be nervous, it only riles them up more. They smell fear you know.”

Bunny snorted. “What fear? Of _you?_ No one’s been afraid of you since the Dark Ages!”

Jack bit his tongue. Did even the people who’d lived through those years - oh, well, the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus were more European anyways, in their worldview. Jack’s only excuse for using the term was in trying to annoy a few of the Islamic spirits Father Frost had recruited.

Their reactions were _always_ hilarious.

Pitch glared momentarily, before grinning nostalgically. “Oh, the Dark Ages.”

Jack sighed mentally. _Him too?_

Pitch then began to wax philosophical about how awesome and amazing and wonderful the Dark Ages were for him. _Blah blah blah. I really need to give these guys an_ accurate _historical text. Blow their minds._

“Oh look, it’s happening already,” Pitch commented offhandedly.

“What is?” Jack said, bewildered momentarily. That’s what he got for letting his mind wander off during a lecture.

Pitch continued ranting, turning it into a taunt directed towards Tooth, as the Palace started to decay right before their very eyes. Jack questioned what was happening unthinkingly.

“Didn’t they tell you, Jack? It’s great being a Guardian - but there’s a _catch_. If enough kids stop believing, everything your friends protect - wonder, hopes, and dreams - it all goes _away_. And little by little, _so do they_ ,” Pitch explained, voice oozing with delight.

_Oh yeah. Used car salesman._ The mental snark didn’t distract him for long. A few seconds at most. He looked over at Bunny. Pitch was attacking him - them. The Guardians. Not just Bunny. If he succeeded… The Guardians, Bunny, would all fade away. That was… It didn’t matter for _him_ , he hadn’t taken the oath, but Bunny _had_.

Bunny was his Charge. Jack couldn’t just stand back and let him fade. He had to _do_ something.

He remained preoccupied by both his thoughts and Quetza’s worried mutterings all up until Tooth admitted Pitch hadn’t been after the teeth, per say, but the memories contained in them.

Jack blinked. “What do you mean?”

Tooth led him across the pond. He froze it under his feet, an automatic reflex no one had ever called him on. Whatever, he could dance across a skin of frost without breaking it, it wasn’t like a little ice was going to hurt anything.

“That’s why we collect the teeth, Jack. They hold the most important memories of childhood.”

Tooth gestured at a mural. Jack smiled; even somewhat faded, the colors were beautiful, blues and greens and golds very like her feathers. He listened with half an ear as she explained what she did with the memories- until she mentioned _his_ memories.

He turned away from the mural. “My memories?” He… didn’t have any.

_Do I?_

“From when you were young.” Tooth looked sympathetic. “Before you became Jack Frost.”

Jack looked down. “But, I wasn't _anyone_ before I was Jack Frost.”

“Of course you were. We were all someone before we were chosen.”

He blinked. “What?” All of them? What had Bunny been? He was a humanoid rabbit now.

North chuckled. “You should've seen Bunny,” he said, as if he’d briefly read Jack’s mind.

“Hey, I told you never to mention that!” Bunny growled in protest.

_Okay, good story there… Wonder how I can find out what it is? But…_

“That night at the pond… I just, why I assumed… are you saying, are you saying I had a life before that? With a home? And a family?”

“You really don't remember?”

That sad expression on her face _hurt_.

Jack kept quiet. If he didn’t say anything… except he had to say something, they were all staring at him with pity and - and he was an Agent of WINTER, damn it! He didn’t need anyone’s pity!

“All these years, and the answers were right here. If I find my memories, then I’ll know why I’m here.” He swallowed, and looked up. “You have to show me.”

Because once he knew - then he’d have everything. A past, a goal, answers for Kern and Father Frost and the archivist who kept glaring at Jack because he couldn’t write down the winter spirit’s entire history from birth to joining WINTER.

Jack flew up into the air, and across the pond.

“Jack. They’re not here, remember?” Quetza hissed softly in his ear right before Tooth replied.

“I… I can't, Jack. Pitch has them.”

He landed on a convenient rock, and looked down at the Guardians.

“Then we have to get them back!”

Tooth opened her mouth to reply, but a patch of feathers chose that exact moment to fall off, and disappear. The others all cringed.

“Oh no!”

Quetza swore in Nahuatl in his ear. Whatever it was, it was quite colorful. And totally unpronounceable.

Jack looked back at the mural, stricken. It was disintegrating, the bright colors turning dark and bits of the colored stone flaking off. So soon? Shouldn’t there have been some kind of grace period or something? The fairies had only just been caught… Was this some kind of magic?

_Has to be… but what? And how do we break it?_

“The children. We’re too late,” Tooth lamented. 

“No! No! No such thing as too late!” North bellowed, before a crazy look flit across his face. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Idea!” North laughed.

_The hell is wrong with the big guy?_

North waved his sword about, pointing at everyone else in an arc. “ _We_ will collect the teeth!”

“What?”

He patted his chest. “We get teeth! Children keep believing in you!”

Tooth looked unimpressed. “We’re talking seven continents!” _Since when did Antarctica have kids at the research stations?_ “Millions of kids!”

“She’s so forgetful -” Quezta started to say via the earbud, but was cut off by North as he snorted.

“Give me break! You know how many toys I deliver in one night?”

Bunny began to smile. “And eggs I hide in one day?”

North turned to Jack, eyes bright. “And Jack, if you help us, we will get you your memories.”

Once this was all over, he’d have to tell them that bribery- or maybe this was some form of extortion or blackmail- was maybe not the best way to convince a guy to help out. Still… He looked over at Tooth, who smiled reassuringly. Sandy gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Bunny, of course, groaned.

“I’ll gather the others,” Quetza noted right before Jack felt his presence disappear. “Xochitl, stay with them. Help Jack.”

Jack smiled at North. “I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaya's Commentary: "It's quite fun to have the RotG script available, but no worries, we're not re-writing the entire movie. Just the important changes."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "This chapter was ever so much fun to write. The script is extremely convenient to work from."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corgi's Barking: "Happy New Year! Have a chapter a day early!"

**Saturday, 7 April 2012 -- Shanghai, China, Evening**

Jack turned and stared at Kern. “You want me to keep track of the local time?” he asked.

Kern shook his head in exasperation. “Not me, the old man asked for it. He’s tired of getting your short form reports saying ‘evening’ _all day_.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The old man’s an idiot. Maybe if someone came up with a watch - why am I even thinking about this? By Polaris, Kern, if it’s ‘evening’ I’ll put ‘evening’ and if it’s ‘daytime’ I’ll put ‘daytime’, and the old man should just be thankful I don’t put ‘light’ and ‘dark’ for the time!” He was gasping for breath at the end of it, but it’d been worth it.

Kern laughed lightly. “Your funeral. I’m just the messenger! So, more seriously, is everyone in position? Should we go get Phil for backup as well?”

“Phil needs to stay at the Workshop, it’ll be too suspicious if he up and vanishes right now.” Jack stroked his chin in thought. “The Kitsune are spread out. Things are going to be chaos, Kern, everyone’s going to be bouncing about. Hypnos is… where, again?”

“Between the boundary of the Dreaming and Waking Worlds, as he puts it. I just say he’s playing ghost again,” Kern replied with a mocking grin.

“Hey, Sandy can slip between the two, the boundary’s as good a place to linger as any. And it’ll keep him out of sight.” If Hypnos had slipped up one more time, Father Frost would’ve had an aneurism or something. Jack considered the other options. “Quetza will play wind for me and Baby Tooth; he’ll be able to keep close to Tooth that way too. North and Bunny are going to be the hard ones to watch. I have to do my part in collecting teeth too, so Kern, do your best with North. Raijin and Izanami are both on Bunny. Maybe they’ll have some luck.”

“For once. At least they can usually keep up with him.”

Jack snorted. “Usually.”

“Anything else, Jack?”

Before Jack could reply, there was a heavy thump against the billboard they were hiding behind, followed quickly by an exclamation of pain. Jack jumped up onto the top of the billboard. He waved one hand at the others, hidden behind it, and leaned forward. “Ah,” he said, “you okay?”

Jack hand-signed behind his back to Kern. “ _ **Go go go!**_ ”

Tooth rubbed her forehead. “Fine… sorry, it’s been a really long time since I’ve been out in the field.”

Well, yeah. “How long is a long time?”

“Ah, four hundred forty years… give or take.”

That… was longer than he’d been alive. Long time indeed. Jack almost jumped off the billboard when Tooth suddenly gasped, and was looking anywhere but reality. She burst into action, flying off so fast she blurred a little. 

Jack looked at Baby Tooth. “Hm…”

Baby Tooth just rolled her eyes in answer.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Saturday, 7 April 2012 -- Everywhere, evening**

Jack was glad Baby Tooth was helping him, because otherwise the night would’ve been absolutely impossible. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred _thousand_ teeth, do not leave a quarter under the pillow - _impossible_.

Baby Tooth told him which room to go to. Baby Tooth was the one who actually snuck under the pillow to get the teeth, because Jack kept knocking against stuff and at one point a parent had actually come in to check on why the lamp had just fallen off the nightstand. Baby Tooth reminded him to leave a quarter - or, well, give her the quarter to place, _details_ \- and then it was off to the next house. And the next.

And oh, yeah, the other Guardians had decided to make it into a _race_. Because they were crazy people like that.

Just how the parents would explain the Christmas tree and the Easter eggs and all in place of quarters, Jack did not know. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. Because ouch, his brain, there were _limits_.

The race did give him a chance to play, a little. Like that time he stole a tooth from Bunny. He’d landed on a rooftop, tooth in hand, looking all pleased with himself - entirely too pleased, if you asked Jack. He wouldn’t have done anything, really, except that one of the Kitsune twins had gotten caught out in the open and looked like the personification of ‘Deer in Headlights’.

So Jack had frozen the roof and made it slippery.

He maybe had also snatched the tooth from Bunny’s paw, so as to have ‘motivation’ for the act. Sandy snatched the tooth from Jack just seconds after, which was hilarious.

And maybe kind of suspicious, because Sandy was _talking_ with someone. Someone Jack couldn’t see or hear, but, well. There’d always been rumors about Sandy’s Guards. And if he couldn’t see a person, he could see the faint wisps of violet lights - or purple sand - flickering through different shapes, just as fast as Sandy usually ‘spoke.’ The flashes of violet kept pace with Sandy as he flew about; apparently, Hypnos was keeping himself _very_ close to his Charge.

_Well, at least I don’t have to worry about Sandy. Where’d Bunny go?_

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Saturday, 7 April 2012 -- Jamie’s Room, Burgess, Pennsylvania, 9:32 pm local time**

Jack looked around the small bedroom, a faint smile on his face. This wasn’t the last place they had to hit, but it was… nice, to look in on the kid. He’d always had a fondness for Burgess - he’d woken up in the lake nearby - and an equal fondness for the kids of Burgess. And Jamie… he chuckled to himself. This kid was special. Like a little livewire. Hook him up to the lightbulb and watch it glow.

There was a mess in the small trashcan. Baby Tooth saw it, and rolled her eyes, grumbling under her breath. Something about fairy traps, _again_ , and when would the boy ever learn?

Ah, Jamie. Good kid. Didn’t always have the best manners, but still, good kid.

Tooth slipped into the room, and smiled at him. “Left central incisor, knocked out in a freak sledding accident. I wonder how that could have happened, Jack?”

Jack laughed, and studied a rough, crayon drawing of a flying kid whaling on his ground-bound friends with snowballs. The flying kid was Jamie, he knew, but…

“Kids, huh?” he said, covering the wistfulness in his voice well enough.

Tooth reached under the pillow for the tooth. And then - well, in anyone else the hovering might have been creepy, but in Tooth it was fond and protective. “This was always the part I liked most - seeing the kids.” She bit her bottom lip. “Why did I ever stop doing this?”

Jack brushed Baby Tooth’s head with one finger.

“It’s a little different up close, huh?” Jack murmured.

Tooth turned to look at him. 

“Thanks for being here, Jack. I wish I had known about your memory, I could’ve helped you.”

“Yeah, well, look let’s just get you taken care of. Then it’s Pitch’s turn, huh?”

“Here you are!” North boomed as he crawled through the window.

 _How that man fits through such tight spaces…_ Jack shook his head slightly at the thought.

Tooth shushed North as he entered. Sandy, of course, needed no such reminder.

“Oh, what gives slowpokes?” North exclaimed. Softly, this time, at least. “How you feeling, Toothy?”

“Believed in,” she replied, grinning brightly.

North laughed, quietly for him. “That’s what I want to hear.”

“Oh I see how it is…”

Jack turned to look at the sound of Bunny’s voice in time to see him crawling out of the floor.

“All working together to make sure the rabbit gets last place,” he grumbled as he closed his rabbit hole.

North held his finger up to his lips, grinning as he hushed the rabbit.

Jack grinned wryly to himself. “You think I need help to beat a bunny? Check it out, Peter Cottontail.” He lifted his sack of teeth. The smallest, he knew that already, but then he’d been doing _three_ jobs, thank you.

“You call that a bag of choppers?” Bunny lifted a larger sack. “Now that’s a bag of choppers.”

“Gentlemen! Gentlemen! This is about Tooth. It’s not a competition! But if it was -” North held up a sack big enough to swallow Jack’s and Bunny’s both, with room left over. “I win. YEEEEEHAAAHH!”

North’s volume climbed sharply and - a flashlight clicked on, illuminating them all.

“Santa Claus?”

The group turned as one to find Jamie sitting up in bed, shining his flashlight back and forth between the various spirits present.

“The Easter Bunny? Sandman… the _Tooth Fairy_! I knew you’d come!”

Tooth’s eyes widened in sudden not-quite-panic. “Surprise!” She giggled nervously. “We came!”

“He can see us?”

Jamie looked around, grinning at… four of them. He looked right through Jack, as usual, and the light from his flashlight didn’t linger on the winter spirit.

“Most of us,” Bunny replied softly, expression neutral, although - and he was probably just hearing things - there might have been a hint of sympathy.

Tooth turned and hushed them. “You guys, he’s still awake.”

Bunny turned to the Dreamweaver. “Sandy! Knock him out!”

Sandy pounded his fists together. Jack almost laughed at the scandalized looks the others shot the Dreamweaver. Jamie just looked confused, and a might concerned.

“Huh?” Jamie said dumbly.

Bunny rolled his eyes. “With the Dreamsand, ya gumbies.”

Then Abby shot up and started growling at Bunny, nose to nose. Oh, the _potential_ \- 

“No, stop that’s the Easter Bunny. What are you doing, Abby? Down!” Jamie chided, trying to get his dog to listen.

“Alright, nobody panic,” Bunny instructed, although his wide eyes belied his calm.

Jack giggled a little at the back of the group. Kern spoke up in the ear piece. “Whatever you’re going to do, Jack-”

“But that’s a, um, that’s a greyhound,” Jack said, stating the obvious. He grinned at Bunny. “Do you know what greyhounds _do_ to rabbits?”

“I think it’s a pretty safe bet he’s never met a rabbit like me -” Jack noticed an alarm on the table next to Jamie’s bed and - _oooh_ , Bunny was going to _hate_ him! - “Six foot one, nerves of steel, master of tai-chi and the ancient art of -”

Jack tapped the alarm clock with his staff. It went off.

“ _Crikey!_ ”

Jack faintly heard Kern chuckling from outside the window. He glanced over in time to see his Knight give him a thumbs up before disappearing from sight.

Bunny bounded around the room like - well, like a rabbit being chased by a greyhound, really. The room was too small for much maneuverability. Abby barked, and barked, and jumped at Bunny, and barked, and everyone was being knocked into. It was _hilarious_.

_This… for a second of planning, this is beautiful!_

Jamie started shouting. “Stop! Sit!”

Sandy, grinning like the loon he was, formed a dreamsand baseball to, presumably, hit the dog with to stop the chase, but the dog bumped into him as she dashed past.

“Down girl, down!” Jamie snatched at the dog’s collar, and missed.

Tooth silenced the alarm clock right before Sandy threw the ball - and Abby chose that moment to knock into him, sending the ball careening around the room, smacking, in turn, everyone except Jack, Sandy, and Jamie in the face in rapid succession. Sandy caught Jamie as he tumbled off the bed and dosed him almost immediately with Dreamsand. He then _looked_ at Jack.

Jack pulled his best innocent expression. “Whoops!”

_No, I have no idea how that happened, either…_

Then he noticed Bunny’s dreamsand imagery.

“Oh, I _really_ wish I had a camera right now.”

Jack grinned at Sandy, right before noticing the Dreamweaver’s expression. He spun and looked out the window.

The Nightmare looked back, seeming to leer, before bolting.

“Sandy, c’mon!” Jack moved over to the window and shoved it open. “We can find Pitch.”

Sandy nodded, hesitating only a moment to glance back at the others where they slept, and moved forward. Jack let him get out the window before reaching up to trigger his ear piece.

“Kern, gather the Shepherds, have everyone watch this location; they’re all sleeping.”

Sandy flashed Jack a surprised look and flashed him the WINTER logo with a question mark.

Jack pulled one of the cards out of his pocket. Kern had gotten them as a gag gift; Jack had been trying to get rid of the five hundred business cards for almost a decade now. He gave it to Sandy, and raised his eyebrows.

“We going after Pitch or not?”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Saturday, 7 April 2012 -- Santa’s Workshop, North Pole, Midmorning**

Jack pressed one finger to the glass, and concentrated. His frost curled into a pattern, like when he was doing dragons and horses, but far more detailed and controlled. This - this was Sandy, no need to squint and tilt your head to see him.

Hypnos had gotten him. Hypnos had been _right there_. Hypnos _had_ to have gotten Sandy. He was just out of touch because they were in the Dreaming. That was all.

He’d told Quetza and Kern that already. They hadn’t argued with him.

Jack hunched his shoulders a little more. He felt… tired, in a way the jetlag from collecting teeth couldn’t account for. That final attack, the frost he’d used. Had to be. He hadn’t ever done anything like that before. At least, not that he remembered. And certainly not as a member of WINTER, subject to the magic-binding rules of the organization.

_Thou shalt not reveal WINTER’s existence..._

_Sometimes_ , he mused darkly. _Sometimes I just want to shove all those rules up Father Frost’s ass and say the hell with it, I’m protecting_ my _Charge_ my _way!_

If he wasn’t _geased_ , would he have had more power to use against Pitch? He didn’t know.

He saw a faint reflection in the window, white beard and red shirt coming closer. So he wasn’t surprised when North spoke up.

“Are you alright?” North asked quietly as he moved over to the window to stand next to Jack.

Jack remained silent, watching his Sandy frost figure on the window.

“I just, I wish I could've done something,” he murmured softly.

“ _Done something?_ Jack, you stood up to _Pitch_. You _saved_ us.” North shuffled an inch closer.

“But Sandy wou-”

North cut Jack off with a hand on his shoulder. “Would be proud of what you did. I don't know who you were in your past life, but in this life you are Guardian.”

“But how can I know who I am, until I find out who I was?” Agent Frostbite of WINTER. Jack Frost, spirit of mischief and snow. Someone… before all that. _Someone I don’t know_.

“You will. I feel it, in my _belly_.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Saturday, 7 April 2012 - The Warren, Beneath the Land Down Under, Day (Warren Time)**

Jack kept to the back of the group, as much to keep his fiendish grin to himself as for the scant bit of privacy. He’d signaled the Kitsune on duty for a report, not that he’d expected anything. It was the Warren. Sure, Pitch had gotten into the North Pole - something he and Phil would have to work on later - and Tooth’s Palace, but - _Warren_.

Raijin signaled the all clear on his end. Izanami was quiet, suspiciously so, for two _very_ long seconds.

“Is that… a _girl?_ ”

Someone - _how_ had anyone gotten into the Warren? Jack looked up, just in time to see Bunny’s ear twitch and shoulders tense.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, and skipped forward, dancing in front of Bunny before he could take off, catching Bunny’s arm in one hand. “It’s just a kid!”

“Oi! What’re you on about, you drongo?”

Sophie then came screaming around the corner, chasing unpainted egglets.

Bunny shot Jack a surprised look that quickly turned appraising. “How’d you know?”

Jack smirked in reply.

Bunny looked from Sophie to the rest of the group. “What is _she_ doing _here_?” he demanded, eyes suddenly a little wild. Jack could see the whites of Bunny’s eyes, all around the green iris. The lagomorph must have just fully registered what was going on. 

North patted his hands down his coat swiftly, then looked embarrassed. “Ah, snow globe.”

“Crikey!” Bunny looked at the three of them. “Somebody do something!”

“Don’t look at me, I’m invisible, remember?” No, that didn’t hurt… Jack did his best to look nonchalant.

Sophie ran around giggling, dragging the elf she’d caught by the bell atop it’s head behind her.

Tooth smiled gracefully. “Don’t worry, Bunny. I bet she’s a fairy fan.” She flew up to hover over Sophie, just out of reach. “It’s okay little one,” she said, combining ‘soothing’ and ‘regal’ and managing to sound both at once.

“Pretty!” Sophie exclaimed as she gazed up at Toothiana in awe.

Tooth just about squealed. Jack could see the effort it took to refrain from doing so in her face. “Awww! You know what, I got something for you. Here it is!” Tooth pulled some teeth out of - _where the hell had she hidden that?_ “Look at all the pretty teeth with little blood and gum on them.”

Sophie ran away screaming.

Jack laughed as he floated over towards where Sophie had chased some egglets. “Blood and gums? When was the last time you guys actually hung out with kids?”

“Peek-a-boo,” Sophie giggled as she played with the eggs.

North boomed, “We are very busy bringing joy to children! We don’t have time….” He suddenly looked embarrassed. “For children.”

Jack walked over to Sophie, and formed a quick snowflake. She could see that, at least, and tried to grab for it. _Oh no, kid. Not for you._

“If one little kid can ruin Easter, then… we’re in worse shape than I thought.”

Jack made the snowflake float towards Bunny with an act of will. It glimmered faintly blue in the Warren’s bright light.

“Weeee! Weee, weee, weee!”

Sophie was such a wonderful kid.

The snowflake touched Bunny on the nose, and burst into sparkles of blue light. He snorted, wrinkled his nose, and then began to smile.

_Mission accomplished._

Of course, it wasn’t that easy. Bunny hadn’t gotten any painting done, or so little it made no difference, before North had summoned the Guardians the day before. There were hundreds of thousands of _millions_ of unpainted eggs wandering around on their little legs, having gotten into all the nooks and crannies they could. Jack knew how Bunny normally handled things - the eggs normally hatched out in stages so he could get batches done in something resembling a sane order, but he’d been out.

Which meant someone needed to herd the eggs to the Color River, and then through the paint vines, and on down the line until they reached the final field, where they milled about before Bunny hid them for the hunts.

Jack set to the herding, with enough skill that Bunny left him alone. Jack kept a surreptitious eye on Bunny as he worked. The lagomorph was darting around, mostly with Sophie at his side, checking in on _everything_. He spoke very briefly with North.

“Gonna need the yeti to paint a large batch by hand, I don’t have time to do it myself.”

“Surely one year without is no problem,” North said, even as he waved a few of his yeti over.

“Belief, mate. Yeti, paintbrushes, go.”

Jack frowned a little at that. Yeah, Bunny did a bunch of eggs by hand, for reasons known only to him. It would’ve been faster if he’d done them all the same way, sending them through the river and the vines and all, but - well, no one had ever figured out just went on in that fuzzy gray skull, Jack wasn’t about to crack the mystery either. Certainly not after only a day of sort-of-getting-along.

Sort of.

And then there were no more eggs to herd, or paint, just watch as they wandered down the tunnels to the various continents like a branching river - granted, one that was a mishmash of pastel so bright it almost hurt the eye to look at… so Jack looked at Bunny instead.

Prettier sight anyway.

Jack approached Bunny from behind, staff propped up against one shoulder. “Not bad,” he said.

“Not bad yourself,” Bunny replied as he looked at Jack.

Was the rabbit being _friendly_? Oh, Polaris in heaven…! Jack hoped so.

He crouched down on his heels. “Look, I’m sorry about that whole, you know, the ‘kangaroo’ thing.” Mostly sorry, anyways. It had been funny at the time.

Bunny _grinned_ and replied, “It's the accent, isn't it?”

North and Tooth joined them before Jack could reply. They all looked at Sophie, fast asleep in Bunny’s arms - all but Jack. He watched his Charge, so only he saw the slightly pained, yet wistful, look flit across the lagomorph’s face.

Strange.

“Ah, poor little ankle-biter. Look at her, all tuckered out,” Bunny commented a moment after he controlled his expression.

Tooth sighed. “I love her!”

They looked up at Jack, who blinked. Okay, what was with the impressed expressions? And the smiles?

Before things could get really weird, Tooth glanced back down at Sophie and said, “I think it’s time to get her home.”

Bunny handed her over to Tooth as Jack cleared his throat. “How about I take her home?” Sophie was asleep, and he could carry people when they were asleep. If they were kids.

“Jack, no! Pitch is-”

“No match for this.” Jack twirled his staff for emphasis. _More than any of you know_.

“Which is why we need you here, with us,” Bunny said.

 _What? Bunny - what? Did he just -_ Jack mentally shook off his shock in time to register that all of the Guardians were looking at him with concern.

He grinned, hiding his moment of surprise behind a mask of good humor. “Trust me, I’ll be quick as a bunny.” He even did the ‘running’ motion with two fingers.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Saturday, 7 April 2012 -- The Fortress, South Pole, Antarctica, Mid-‘day’**

“Portal integrity at fifty-eight percent, climbing steadily.”

Father Frost, once known as Odin Borson, as the Allfather, currently known as the Director of WINTER, stood at ease at the back of the room. No use in breathing down the ensigns’ necks. They couldn’t make the portal link any faster, or any safer, than it was already doing. The youngsters were nervous enough at having the Director himself in the room.

The Snow Queen smirked at him from the other side of the room. Ah, it was like Anika could read his mind at times. Not that he cared. Whatever got the work done.

“Integrity at eighty-one percent.”

He didn’t normally have the portal to the moon opened. Manny might have been his Charge, but the man was _strange_ , and Father Frost had seen strange. He didn’t normally have to go up there. Maybe once or twice a decade, usually, to make sure everything was going well. Being up on the moon, Manny was safe enough for the most part. And he didn’t much care for company of the fleshy kind - too loud, he claimed. His robots were quieter.

But this necessitated a visit. Ergo, the portal.

“Integrity at ninety-nine percent - stabilizing.”

The silver and blue metallic ring, great enough in diameter Father Frost could have ridden Sleipnir through without having to duck, suddenly glowed a brilliant white, bright enough to hurt the eyes. He squinted, very slightly, but didn’t look away.

The portal finished stabilizing, and instead of the back wall previously seen through the ring, instead it looked out over a lunar landscape. Spirits could survive the vacuum, hell, they could have conversations out there, but no one would ever claim it was comfortable. Except for Manny, but he wasn’t an earth spirit. Atmosphere was just as uncomfortable for him, as the lack of it was for Father Frost.

“Right,” he said, and strode forward. “The Snow Queen’s in charge until I get back.”

Then he stepped up to, and through, the portal.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**The Luminary, Mons Huygens, Montes Apenninus, Luna, Earth Orbit**

Only long practice kept him walking calmly. Used to be he’d stumble when crossing the gate. It only took a little bit to find Manny; he was dressed in the brightest colors Father Frost had been able to bring across, more to make this part easier than because Manny liked looking like a color-blind gypsy.

“Manny,” he said, and folded his arms. “You’ve made a few stupid-ass moves in your time, but I swear this is the worst.” 

The old coot was seated, as always, in his observatory, gazing through his crystals and telescopes in a seemingly random pattern as he watched the play of the Earth below. A robotic butler moved up and tapped Lunanoff’s rounded shoulder to get his attention.

“Odin for you, sir,” it intoned.

Manny spun around on his swivel chair. “Haptabeiðir! What brings you all the way up here? You visited only a decade ago! Is something amiss?”

“Amiss?” Father Frost asked, voice going cold and sharp. “You could say that. Tell me something, Manny, have I ever interfered with your Guardians? Ever tapped any of them on the shoulder and tossed ‘em into WINTER?”

“Ah. I see you have come to discuss the Frost child, Hjaldrgegnir,” Manny replied softly, eyes twinkling madly, like the stars on a cold winter’s night.

“Damn skippy I have. He’s _mine_ ,” Father Frost said. “My agent - my _best_ agent - and you had no _right_ trying to take him from me.”

“As you yourself noted when you recruited him, I _did_ chose him -”

“You _ignored_ him for three centuries and you think I give a damn? So you turned him into a spirit, so what, it would’ve happened anyways and all you did was speed things up.”

“There was no need for me to communicate with him. You found him in short order. I simply waited until he was needed.”

“That’s not how a good leader does things. You know that. You _know_ that. You never paid him one whit of attention. Not like I found him right away! As I am Baldrsfaðr, I am also-”

“Jannikfaðr,” Manny cut in, with a sly look in his eye.

Father Frost took a step back, and then turned away. “Father of Jannik. John. Jack. Names the Overland family have carried for untold generations. What of it?”

“And, if you trace the line back, as I did, you will find his ancestors originated in a small village that was once raided by Baldr’s own grandchild by a mortal woman, who took a wife and settled with her when his ship burned.”

“Then you should know what that means,” Father Frost said. He felt the weight of his years dragging on his shoulders, years spent with Huginn whispering tales of kin he couldn’t visit, so didn’t dare watch for the pain. Thor chafed at being kept close to his father’s side, but Thor was the last son he had left.

Yet, if what Manny said was true -

It didn’t change anything. Jack had been his best agent before confirmation, he’d stay his best agent.

“Jannikfaðr, I know you care for the boy a great deal, so why the long face? I had thought you would be happy to have another son, if many generations removed?” Manny asked, mild bewilderment coloring his features.

“All my children die. And…” _I can’t lose another._

Manny smiled faintly. “He is strong, Allfather. Stronger than even you or he knows.”

“Be that as it may.” He drew his ragged control back around him. “Manny. Jack Frost cannot be a Guardian. Besides his duties to WINTER, he has no believers. Taking the Oath would be suicide or murder, at the moment I can’t decide which. My Charge or not, if you-”

Manny grinned mysteriously. “I do not think a lack of believers will be a problem, old friend. Just wait, and see.”

“On your head be it,” Father Frost said, and headed for the portal.

Manny nodded sagely. “It is so, Fráríðr.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Cheerful Comments: "Here's to a Happy New Year, may 2014 rock at least twice as much as 2013 did."
> 
> Corgi Explanations: "Manny's names for Odin are as follows:
> 
> Haptabeiðir - Commander of Leaders  
> Hjaldrgegnir - Engager of Battle  
> Fráríðr - The one who rides forth
> 
> Baldrsfaðr - Balder's Father  
>  ergo:  
>  Jannikfaðr - Jannik's (Jack's) Father [I made this one up]  
>  [Jack is a dim. of John; Jannik is a Danish variant thereof]  
>  [a cognomen that Manny calls Odin] - Is Jack a (very) distant descendant?
> 
> cognomen: Roman naming convention: name of a family line within the gens  
> gens: referred to a family, consisting of all those individuals who shared the same nomen and claimed descent from a common ancestor.
> 
> Enjoy!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Sunday, 8 April 2012 -- Stancomb-Wills Glacier, Antarctica, Mid-morning**

“ _You were with Pitch?”_

“ _He has to go.”_

“ _We should never have trusted you!”_

Jack didn’t know whether to throw his toothbox away, or just fall down crying. Or both. Both sounded good. 

Bunny had trusted him. And he’d blown it. Big time.

And… And he only noticed it now, but the toothbox didn’t feel… right. Exactly. He was a field agent, not a curse breaker, but field agents got exposed to plenty of freaky stuff. The limit of his understanding involved dunking the funky object in salt water, which… Okay. Throw the toothbox away, dunk it in the ocean, or cry.

He clenched his fists around box and staff, and then ran for the edge of the glacier. He lifted his hand to throw, but couldn’t bring himself to go through with it.

_Maybe it’d be better to dunk it…_

The silence in his earpiece was just as bad as the horrified expression he’d seen on Kern’s face. Jack Frost - Agent Frostbite - had _failed_ his _Charge_. 

Some ‘legendary’ agent he was.

He’d go back, he had to go back, because failure or not he was an Agent of WINTER and he wasn’t going to just sit back and let everything end. In a few minutes. Once he’d decided what to do about his toothbox, he’d go back. There, decision made. _Now what?_

“I thought this might happen,” a voice said, tone conciliatory, from behind him.

Jack spun on the spot and found Pitch gliding slowly across the ice shelf behind him.

The Nightmare King offered him a wan, sympathetic smile and continued speaking. “They never really believed in you. I was just trying to show you that. But I understand.”

Understand? Jack narrowed his eyes, and shot a quick blast of frost at the shadow-man. “You don’t understand anything!”

He went on the attack, but pulled his blows. Even as he reined in the power he was lashing out with, he couldn’t understand _why_. Why wasn’t he hitting Pitch with everything he had? The Nightmare King was _right here_ , Jack could easily beat him down - so why was he playing _nice_?

Pitch dodged his attacks easily.  “No? _I_ don’t know what it’s like to be _cast out_?”

For a crazy old guy, Pitch could fight. Jack spun around, pulling his blows less and less as he got more and more into the fighting. It wasn’t easy. 

“To not be believed in. To long for a family.”  Pitch continued babbling about nonsense.  Jack _had_ a family.  He _was_ believed in, if only by the other agents. “All those years in the shadows I thought, no one else knows what this feels like. But now I see I was _wrong_.”

  
  


Jack locked eyes with Pitch. You could always tell how someone was going to move, and when, by their eyes. He didn’t know what Pitch saw, looking at Jack, but Jack, looking at Pitch, saw… a manipulator, someone who’d spent all night playing head games, and was now trying more of the same. 

_Does he really think I’d believe his nonsense?_

“We don't have to be alone, Jack,” Pitch said softly, eyes shining with the appearance of honesty.  Jack just wasn’t sure he could trust appearances. “I believe in you. And I know children will too.”

He took a deep breath, and shook his head slowly. “I’m not alone.” He was an Agent of WINTER. Now, and always. “I have a family. I have a father…” Odin, Father Frost, his Regent, who’d spent a full decade teaching Jack his favorite knife tricks. “I have a mother.” Anika, the Snow Queen, who unbent around him and a few of the more timid junior agents. “I have brothers-” Thor, Weyland, hell, even Loki, when he bothered to visit. “-and sisters-” Nott, and not a few Valkyries. “-I have friends-” Kern, first of the list, every time, Phil, Quetza. “-and it doesn’t _matter_ if children believe in me. I’ll still protect them.”

Jack lifted his staff into a proper guard position, and scowled. “Take your lies somewhere else, Pitch. I’m not buying them.” _I’ve been fed better by the Liesmith himself anyway_.

Pitch’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before sharply narrowing as he growled darkly. “You would spit at my offer?   _Fine._  If that is your wish, then so be it.  But first…”

At that, Pitch held out his hand.  Faint twittering could be heard and then Baby Tooth’s voice piped through the earbud, “ _Jack!_ ”

“Baby Tooth!” Quetza’s Knight! Jack snarled, and shot forward - and stopped. Pitch showed his teeth, and loosened up his grip so Baby Tooth could breathe again.

Pitch glared even as he grinned triumphantly.  “The staff, Jack.”

His… staff? Jack looked down at it, and then up at Pitch. _Oh_. Well. Now he was glad Weyland had made sure he wasn’t tied so tightly to it. He figured he could guess what was coming.

“You have a bad habit of interfering. Now hand it over,” Pitch said, pausing momentarily to gesture meaningfully with the hand holding Baby Tooth. “And I’ll let her go.”

“ _Don’t give it to him!_ ” he heard in his ear.  Apparently, judging by the expression on her face, Weyland hadn’t informed everyone of what they’d done to the staff.  He could use this to his advantage.

Jack made a show of looking nervous, swallowing hard as he spun the staff in a circle with one hand. Just a quick little show of his finger dexterity and strength, and why was he bothering with that? Oh, right, fake nerves. He sighed, and held out the staff. Pitch took it, dark sand curling around the old wood even as Jack’s frost melted away.

“Alright. Now let her go.”

Pitch’s expression became abruptly very bland.  “No. You said you wanted to be alone.” His glare returned, full force, as he shouted, “ _So be alone!_ ”

Baby Tooth had made good use of Jack’s distraction and managed to peck the Nightmare King in his hand, causing him to yelp and let go.  Not that it did her much good, since he batted her out of the air with Jack’s staff in the next moment.   _Ouch_.

“No!” Jack reached out, as if he could stop Baby Tooth from falling into the nearby crevasse from will alone.

Pitch then, with a showy display, cracked the staff in half over his knee.  Jack flinched reflexively - _Oh, Weyland is going to_ kill _me_ \- and then, before he could decide on the best course of action, was thrown back by a sudden burst of nightmare sand and slammed hard into a wall of ice, which groaned with the impact. He fell into the crevasse with Baby Tooth a moment later, dazed and winded.

He had enough wits in that moment to glance up and witness Pitch tossing the two parts of his staff down into the crevasse, his expression one of ‘good riddance,’ before disappearing in a flurry of dark sand.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Sunday, 8 April 2012 -- Stancomb-Wills Glacier, Antarctica, Noon**

“Ow!” Why did he _always_ fall on that chunk of ice, and _always_ hit it with the same shoulder? Jack groaned when he sat up, all the aches and pains reminding him, loudly, that they existed.

Climbing up out of the crevasse wasn’t going to work, clearly. At least he hadn’t broken any bones.

Baby Tooth chirruped at him where he lay, spread-eagled on the ice from his latest fall.  He turned his head and gave her a quizzical glance.  She rolled her eyes and flit into his hoodie pocket.

_Must be cold_ -

A light flared up from within his pocket.

“Wha- hey, no, leave that.” Jack reached in to pull Baby Tooth out, and managed to bring out his toothbox as well.

She flit around him in a circle, before landing on the edge of the box, gesturing at it insistently.

“Baby Tooth, no. Pitch did something.” That was why he’d put the box in his pocket, instead of holding onto it. Right now, it was really hard to look away from the fancy carvings.

“ _I know_ ,” her tiny voice sounded in his ear.  “ _Sympathetic magic, very bad.  But you can still use the memories!_ ”

She tapped the box again.

“What’s the point?” He’d managed better without his memories, without even knowing they existed, than since finding out about them.

She stood up and planted her tiny little fists on her hips and glared at him.

“ _Jack Frost, you will watch your memories now!_ ”

She even stamped her little foot.  It was way too adorable.  How could he say no?

“Alright, alright! Just ease up on the evil eye, okay? Sheesh. How do we do this, Baby Tooth?”

She tapped the central, flat plane of the box a couple times.

“Well, here goes nothing,” he murmured as he tapped the box lightly.

It glowed brightly - and then he was elsewhere.  Else _when_.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


_Okay. That was not exactly what I expected._

Jack shook his head, as if shaking off water - no, don’t think about _water_ right now - and looked around. He was still in the crevasse. Baby Tooth was staring up at him, expectant. He still held his toothbox before him, but he immediately shoved it back in his pocket upon noticing it. He didn’t need it anymore, and he didn’t want to be caught by whatever sympathetic magic Pitch had put on it. Not again, if his hazy memories were anything to go by.

“We need to get out of here.” How long had he been in the memories? It was Antarctica, it could’ve been hours and the sun wouldn’t change position enough to notice.

She nodded, and smiled faintly. “ _Did you find yourself?_ ”

“Y-yeah. I think so.” Staff, staff - there. “Let me just…”

He scrambled over to where the two pieces of his staff lay, and picked them up. This wasn’t going to be like Weyland’s work. No, it’d be rough, and kind of poor, and he’d get yelled at for messing around in Weyland’s domain, but he couldn’t fly without his staff.

Ergo, he had to fix it.

Baby Tooth chittered at him inquiringly, as if to ask what he was doing, as she flit around his head, finding a good vantage point.

“It’s okay, I know what I’m doing.” _I think._

He flexed his fingers, and then brought the broken ends together, fitting them against one another like puzzle pieces. It took a little shifting before he got an exact match, and then he concentrated.

What was it? _What was it?_ Ice? Ice alone didn’t do the trick. It was like the staff started to heal, and then stopped.

Jack’s shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the snow. Pretty poor, as snow went, you couldn’t make a snowball out of this stuff if you tried for months. Heh, he could do so much better… And did, plenty of times. Kids always laughed when he brought them snow.

His hands tingled, a little like they’d started to go to sleep, and he blinked and paid attention.

His staff was glowing, and - and the break was _healing_ , just like that!

After what seemed like an eternity, but was likely only mere moments, his staff was completely whole once more.  He blinked in surprise, even as his face lit up in happiness.  Baby Tooth chirped cheerfully beside him.

“Right. Right! Okay, Baby Tooth, hang on tight, we’re gonna blow this popsicle stand!” He tapped his earpiece. “Kern? Kern! Come in Kern?”

Static. “We really need to work on the range for these things… Wind!” The wind swept him up, and he sprawled out on her spectral back. “Take me to Burgess!”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack made a quick pit stop at the nearest globe he could find, which happened to allow him to check on the other mini-fairies.  They still couldn’t fly, but he at least broke all the locks with a quick flash of frost within each, before checking the globe.

There were no lights.  At all.  Except, wait - there was _one_.  Right here, in Burgess.

“Jamie,” he whispered, not sure how he knew, but - 

He looked at the mini-fairies, and made a face. “Get warm and start flying, girls, we’ve got lots of work to do!” First things first, protect Jamie, because if he stopped believing, that was it.

He tapped his earbud.  “Kern?  Kern!  Come in, Kern!”

“Jack!  Where have you _been_?  Everything’s gone to hell and back while you were gone!” Kern’s voice was frantic, yet relieved.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that, but - nevermind, explanations later. There’s still one believer, Jamie Bennett, in Burgess. I’m going to protect him, because Pitch’ll realize soon enough and go after him. Keep an eye on the Guardians.”

“Copy.  Anything else?” Jack could faintly hear Kern barking orders even as he waited.

“Yes.  The mini-fairies and the stolen teeth are all in Pitch’s lair.  They’re too cold to fly.  There’s a broken down bed not far from my lake - north by northwest a bit, into the forest; there’s a tunnel beneath it that leads down here.  Get a team here to help them, and to retrieve the teeth.”

“Copy.  And you?” Kern asked, concern evident in his voice.

“I… I am going to kick Pitch’s ass.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Sunday, 8 April 2012 -- Burgess, Pennsylvania, Evening**

“He sees me. He _sees_ me!”

Jack felt - he didn’t know how he felt. Excited. Very excited, oh yes, he was seen by a human and - wow! Just wow! It was - it was better than anything he’d ever done before! 

“ _We get strength from our believers,”_ the Snow Queen whispered in the back of his mind. “ _We don’t_ need _it, but that’s why we were once thought of as gods… Because they believed we_ could _, we_ did _.”_

And Jamie _believed_ in him…

Wow!

Mixed up with the excitement and the glee and the giddy, bubbly feeling was a sudden case of nerves. What if Jamie stopped believing? What if something happened to Jamie? He was the last light, Pitch would want to hurt the kid, and Jack hadn’t been able to stop Pitch before this, what made him think he’d be able to do anything now?

But - but Jamie _believed_ in him, and - and Jack couldn’t help but chuckle, and then laugh, feeling as though it was the first time he’d ever _smiled_ before, feeling as breathless as the first time the Wind had carried him up into the jetstream, and nerves or no nerves, Jack felt like he could take on the _world_ and win, no problem.

He was Jack Frost - and this kid knew it!

How awesome was that?

The earbud crackled to life.  “Jack?  What - _who_ sees you?”

_Oops.  I must have bumped the reciever in my excitement._

Jack eyed Jamie sidelong, and quickly tapped his earbud. “Jamie Bennett,” he whispered, aware of the kid leaning forward to try and hear what he was saying. Whispering. Whatever, phrasing didn’t matter. 

There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line. “You - you - a _believer?_  Oh Jack, I’m so proud of you right now, I could kiss you!”

“Sure thing, PG and on the cheek.”

Kern laughed.  “The Sleigh is almost there, by the way.  Two minutes, tops.”

Jack double-tapped the bud in acknowledgement and then returned his attention to Jamie as the child spoke.

“You just made it snow,” Jamie exclaimed, awed.

Whoops. “I know!” Ah, well, he was too excited to feel properly repentant anyways.

“In my room.”

“I know!”

“You're _real_?”

“Yeah! Who do you think brings you all the blizzards and snow days, and you remember when you went flying on that sled the other day?”

“ _That was you?_ ”

“That was me!”

“ _Cool!_ ”

“Right?” 

“But what about the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy? I mean-”

“Real-real-real! Every one of us is real!” Right. The kid needed to believe. This had to be the _strangest_ way an Agent had _ever_ protected their Charge, but- it felt good.

“I _knew_ it!”

“Jamie, who are you talking to?”  Jamie’s mother called, through the door. It sounded like she was up  the stairs.

Jamie scrunched up his face for a moment in confusion, before shrugging and saying, “Um… Jack Frost.”

Jack could hear her chuckling even from down the hallway. “...okay.”

Just then, Kern’s voice in his ear alerted him to the arrival of the Sleigh, which he was readily able to confirm visually with a glance out the window.

“Hey kiddo, want to meet the others?”

“Cool!”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack did his best to look, well, not innocent, but, you know, close to innocent, when he sauntered up a little behind Jamie. “See? Told you they were real.”

Not real healthy looking at the moment, but that was only to be expected.

He looked the Guardians over, real quick. North looked more like an old man than he ever did, and- were those long, white hairs on his coat? Was he- was he going bald? White or not, Santa had a full head of hair, long enough to brush his shoulders when not confined by his hat. Bald was not a good sign.

And Tooth! Tooth didn’t seem able to fly at all! She wasn’t shedding feathers, yet, but even without Quetza saying it, Jack knew the Knight was supremely worried for his Charge.

He looked between North and Tooth, and - where was Bunny?

“Wait, but, where’s Bunny?”

Jamie frowned, and looked around. “The Easter Bunny?”

“Losing Easter took its toll on all of us. Bunny most of all,” North replied, glancing sadly towards the Sleigh.

Jack felt the blood drain from his face, and he would have staggered if he hadn’t been, in part, braced for this. Kern would have told him if- if it was really bad, he would have, but Bunny wasn’t in… the… 

“Oh no…” Jack clenched his eyes shut, and then opened one, squinting. Nope. Still there. A tiny little, ten pound fluff ball, with Bunny’s gray-blue fur, his dark blue markings, his big green eyes… 

_You know, he’d actually be easier to protect like this… Bet he can’t go very fast with those tiny legs, and if a demon showed up, I could just pick him up in one hand - no, bad Jack, pocket-sized Bunny is a bad thing!_

“That’s the Easter Bunny?” Jamie said after a moment, chuckling lightly.

Bunny gave them an exasperated look. “ _Now_ somebody sees me! I mean, where were you about an hour ago, mate?”

_An hour - these people can’t tell time! The last egg hunt was_ several _hours ago!_

Jamie turned to Jack and asked, “What happened to him? He used to be huge and cool! And now he’s - _cute_.” 

Jamie reached out before Jack could respond and gently tickled Bunny under the chin.  And Bunny - he - he - Jack had to stifle a laugh.  Bunny’s leg was _thumping!_

“Oh, that’s good,” Bunny murmured before catching himself and batting Jamie’s hand away.  He turned an annoyed glare on Jack.   _Of course._  “Did you tell him to say that?” He hopped down from the Sleigh, and over to Jack. “That’s it! Let’s go! Me and you! Come on!”

Jamie exclaimed, “No! Actually he told me you were real. Just when I started to think that maybe you weren’t.”

Bunny froze and looked first at Jamie, then turned and gazed at Jack.  His eyes were - _big_ and shocked.

“He made you believe? _In me_?”

Jamie’s affirmation went almost unnoticed as Bunny gave Jack a lazy, happy smile.  Certainly, Jack didn’t notice, not with _that smile_ being directed at him.  It made his heart flutter.  Which stuttered to a stop a moment later when a crack of thunder startled the group. Dark clouds - not clouds, _sand_ \- loomed over the skyline.

_Pitch._

Jack glanced around, his gaze stopping on North. “Get Jamie out of here.”

North nodded, grimly. “Be careful, Jack!”

Careful wasn’t the right word for it. He nodded anyways.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


How did he get into these things? Jack glared at Pitch, staff held loosely in both hands. Either he fought Pitch, alone, and hey, WINTER training all but assured he’d wipe the street with the guy if he called in Kern and Quetza and the Kitsune, or… he didn’t call in the other Agents. And got kicked around instead.

“Aww, you'll protect them.” Pitch smiled, slow and lazy. Creepily. “But who will protect _you_?”

Jack clenched his jaw. The other Agents. And - Jamie stepped in front of him, suddenly enough Jack could only blink down at the kid, dumbfounded.

“I will.” 

Jamie was followed by the other kids, who all said variations on the same thing. They’d protect the Guardians. Which was touching, in a nerve wracking kind of way.

“We’re in position,” Kern whispered in his ear.  “On your mark.”

Quetzalcoatl’s gentle breeze made Jack’s hair sway by way of letting him know the serpent was close at hand.

Pitch grinned darkly.  “Still think there’s no such thing as the boogeyman?”

As Pitch’s wave of nightmare sand leapt forth, Jamie countered, “I do believe in you. I’m just _not afraid of you_.”

Jamie thrust out his hand as if to shield everyone with it and then turned his head, eyes tightly shut.  Jack moved to protect him, but before he could take more than a step or two, a tendril of the nightmare sand touched the kid’s outstretched palm and - burst into golden _dreamsand_.

“Yes!” Jack threw his head back, and crowed his joy to the sky. “Yes, _yes_ , Hypnos you _brilliant_ man you! Yes, you did it!”

“Hypnos?” Jack heard North mutter from behind him.

_Oops!  Well, it didn’t matter, not with what he had planned._

Pitch recovered from his shock quickly and snarled, gesturing for the wave of nightmare sand to attack again.  Jack was done playing around.

He jumped in front of the children and slammed his staff against the ground.

“ _ENOUGH!”_

Even Sandy, newly reformed from his dreamsand, paused and looked over at him. Jack grinned; of all the Agents of WINTER, he was one of the few people with permission to do this.

And he couldn’t _wait_ to see Pitch’s expression.

Jack gripped his staff with both hands as he intoned, “In brightest day, in darkest night, evil shall _quake_ at Winter's might!”

Pitch’s look of dawning horror was _most_ satisfying.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


What the… Pitch wasn’t going to be beaten by a _couplet!_ Bunny cringed automatically, and then he had to flinch, because Jack was glowing.

Like a _lightning bolt._

When his eyes cleared, he reached one absurdly short paw up to wipe at the tears still streaming down his cheeks in reaction. He couldn’t help but look frantically over at Jack, who’d been at the epicenter of the blast.

He expected to see a crater of some kind, maybe some ashes.

That… wasn’t exactly the situation.

Jack was caught up in a swirling wind centered upon him, ice crystals desubliminating out of the cold night air and forming - _armor?_

Jack’s feet were covered first, in what looked like leather boots - but they were ice! They flexed like leather as Jack shifted his weight slightly, and - now his head hurt - and then light greaves covered his shins from ankle to knee. His pants didn’t change much, got a heavy dusting of curling frost patterns on them, and they were only visible from knee to mid-thigh anyways. A kilt of ice - no it was _chainmail_ formed of _ice_ \- covered Jack from mid-thigh to the heavier armor that continued to form as they watched.

It took a minute for the breastplate, which looked like the finest money could have bought, back in the day when that was the sort of thing you _bought_ with money, and, coupled with the pauldrons, made Jack look bigger. Older. A touch more dangerous.

The cape was overdoing it though, really. It looked like it was diamond dust. It flapped in the wind like real fabric, but he _knew_. Diamond dust, holding to the shape of a length of gauze secured to the pauldrons.  Then - then the helmet formed, an open-faced barbute - more ‘open’ in the face than the traditional design, true, but undoubtedly based on the barbute style of helm.  And -

_There was a bloody crown on top of the helmet._

The crown was reminiscent of a viscount’s coronet, of the style seen in heraldry.  It was no less impressive.  Spikey and made of a blue-white ice, it was studded with darker blue-toned ‘gems.’

Probably gems. Possibly more ice.

What was Jack doing with a crown?

Nevermind that, what was Jack doing with _armor_?

“Wait, wait,” Jamie whispered, awed. “He’s a superhero _too_?”

“Jack, what -”

And then a bloody _serpent_ appeared out of thin air.  It was longer than several cars put back to back, and larger besides.  And it had _wings_.  It was coiled around the gathering of Guardians and children protectively.  It hissed at Pitch once it was fully visibly, wings thrown wide in an unmistakably threatening gesture.

Then kitsune came out of the woodwork.  And some sort of deer-man.

_What the bleeding hell is going on?_

Bunny opened his mouth to demand answers, when Pitch screeched from atop his ‘warhorse.’

“You!  You’re - you’re a _Regent?_   _You?_ ” The Nightmare King somehow managed to look both flabbergasted and frightened at the same time.

Bunny couldn’t see Jack’s expression, but the winter spirit laughed, and spun his staff like a master baton twirler. “Well, at least someone recognized it. Pitch, for the crimes of attempted murder, as well as attempted Regicide, the wrongful imprisonment of Tooth’s fairies, several of them of WINTER, and grand theft of the childrens’ baby teeth, I sentence you to - hey, get back here! Get him!”

Bunny’s gaze darted to where Pitch had been and discovered that Pitch Black, King of Nightmares, was _fleeing._

From Jack?   _The hell?_

“Are you going to throw _him_ in a volcano?” the deer-man asked, eyes dancing with mirth.

Jack snarled and pointed after Pitch. The strangers chased after him.

“Right,” Jack said, and turned, a little awkwardly, to face them. Apparently the helmet interfered with turning his neck. “I don’t know if it’d be better for you to stay here or not.”

The giant serpent intoned sibilantly, with a bow of it’s over-large head, “I will watch over them, Regent.”

“Cut with the respect,” Jack muttered, and nodded exaggeratedly. Then he jumped into the air, flying up after Pitch and the other spirits.

“You? Watch over _us_?” Bunny scowled up at the spirit. “ _Really_ now?”

The snake laughed, a strange hissing noise.  “I never said I’d prevent you from trying to help, now did I?”

Well, that was true. Bunny didn’t have to look at the others - not the other Guardians, not the children - to know what they were going to do next.

He couldn’t help but grin, even as he began hopping down the street. Damn his short legs!

The serpent slid beneath him and caught him mid-jump.

“Hang on, little rabbit.”

“Aaaaah!”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack scowled at Quetza, even as he spun around a nightmare, only to freeze it. Sandy must have been reading his mind, because the Dreamweaver started reclaiming the sand back from Pitch. It was real nice, watching the black sand turn gold again. Even better when the one of the kids, he didn’t see exactly who, bumped into one of the nightmares trying to avoid Jack, Kern, the Kitsune, and all. The nightmare whinnied, and even as Jack spun to save the kid, the nightmare turned into a golden unicorn. The unicorn bent its neck, and nuzzled at - oh, Cupcake, good for her - before turning and chasing the remaining Nightmares.

Well, the kids and Guardians were here, even if that wasn’t what he’d intended. He threw a snowball at Quetza, which somehow went way off course, and knocked into a tiny gray - _Of course._ Bunny. What was Bunny doing perched on Quetza’s head?

Well, not perched anymore… Getting hit with the snowball knocked him right off the feathered serpent, and judging by the laughing, G-rated Aussie curses from out of sight, he was both affected by the happy flakes and annoyed at falling off.

Jack conjured a snowbank for him to land in with an absent wave of his hand.  The honk of surprise when Bunny landed was _totally_ worth it.

“Hey! I want a snowball too!” Jamie yelled.

“Snowball fight, yes!”

Well… Jack grinned, and spun like a top, before flying over the kids. Perfectly formed snowballs began raining down, plopping gently onto the ground without bursting.

Jack spun on the spot, dodging several nightmares even as he destroyed more and so was perfectly situated to witness a full-sized Easter Bunny burst from the snowbank, boomerangs flying.

Jack crowed in delight at the sight and took off after Pitch once more.

The hunt, such as it was, turned out to be short. Jack saw Pitch wheel his mount around, and dove. The Wind tucked in her wings, until she resembled a barely-visible giant falcon. They flew at a respectable speed into Pitch.

Jack’s armor protected him from most of the impact, but he still felt rattled, even as he swooped up to avoid the Nightmare King’s fate of plowing a furrow in the earth.

Pitch was nothing if not spry, though, and took only a moment to shake himself before standing and forming a huge scythe of nightmare sand.  He charged.

“Compensating for something?” Jack asked, tone irreverent, even as he jumped impossibly high and flipped over shadow-man and scythe both.  The blade clipped his cape, true, but it simply reformed behind him without any effort on Jack’s part.

“You!” Pitch snarled, apparently too enraged for coherency. “This is your fault!”

“I’m not the one that _messed up._ ” Jack blocked a slash with his staff. His hasty repair work held up, but that was something he’d have to avoid doing again. There were limits, apparently, and he was no Weyland, to repair things perfectly the first time. “Come on, Pitch! You put on a great show, but let’s face it, you’re a few pancakes short of a full stack!”

They traded several blows until Pitch dodged to the side, straight into a shadow, and disappeared.  Jack growled in annoyance.

Pitch reappeared behind him and swung.

Jack spun just in time to see the scythe heading for him, but not actually do anything about it.

He didn’t have to.

Sandy caught the hilt with a whip of golden sand, and despite the size differences, it was Pitch jerked backwards to be thrown upwards and then slammed into the pavement. 

Jack winced despite himself.   _Ouch.  That’s gonna leave a mark._

Sandy looked vaguely disapproving towards Pitch, but then gave Jack two thumbs up. Jack gave Sandy a thumb up and a big smile in response.  He then glanced around, looking for more threats, only to find that the rest of the Agents, and the Guardians, were cleaning up the dregs of the remaining nightmares.

It was over.  They’d won.

Jack turned to grin at the approaching Guardians. Sandy bowed even as Bunny got right up in Jack’s face.

“That was some fancy fighting there, Frostbite, but _what the hell is going on?_ ”

Right, explanations. 

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Tell you what, Cottontail. Let me contact some people who can take Pitch into custody and help get the kids home, and then I’ll make sure you get all the answers.”

Bunny nodded sharply and paused to stare at Jack for a moment, before his features softened and he laid a friendly paw on Jack’s shoulder.

“You did good, Jackie.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corgi's Barking: *cackling*
> 
> Kaya's Commentary: "This was a very fun chapter to write, trust me. Blame Corgi for the poetry, me for the outfit, and Jack the BAMF for any and all heart attacks related to the awesome."


	7. Chapter 7

**Sunday, 8 April 2012 -- Burgess, Pennsylvania, Evening**

It wasn’t that easy, of course. Jack had to radio in to WINTER HQ, which meant talking to Sueanne, Little Miss Nitpicker who argued with him over dispatching a cleanup crew. He finally had to pull rank on her, something he hated doing, and it got him a few odd looks from the nearby Guardians, too.

Or maybe it was because he was still wearing the armor. Honestly, it was easier to summon than to dismiss. One day Weyland would explain all the spells, but that day wasn’t today - and probably not tomorrow, either. It was light enough, he’d keep it on until they got to HQ, where he could put it back in the armory where it belonged.

The kids at least took his changed appearance in stride. It was kind of amusing, actually. Especially the way Claude kept trying to catch Jack’s cloak so he could prove it was fabric, not diamond dust.

The funniest part was how the kid’s hand kept passing through the cloak, even as he insisted that was impossible.

“It’s _magic_ ,” Jamie pointed out reasonably, as if he saw such things every day.

_Well, Sophie did find her way into the Warren…_

Jack shook his head, and turned around to smirk at the kids. “Going to keep on with that all night?”

They shook their heads.

“Great. Let’s all huddle up and talk, ‘cause that’s a thing that needs to happen - oof!”

Tooth was hugging him. Jack smiled, a touch bemused, and patted her shoulder until she put him down. Strong lady, to lift him in all that armor, light though it was. Baby Tooth cut in a moment later, distracting Tooth with her chatter.  North cleared his throat to get Jack’s attention.

“Are you ready now, Jack?” he asked, pausing a moment to accept a large tome from Bob - or was it Bill? “To make it official.”

Jack looked over, eyebrows raised, at the rest of the group. When had that elf gotten here - and why was it carrying a brass horn? Couldn’t be the same one, could it? Sandy and Bunny exchanged glances, and smug little smirks.

“To make…?” What were they talking about? Official, what?

“Time for you to make Oath - oof!”

North was abruptly pushed aside by Kern as he came barrelling through to sweep Jack up into a spinning arc, as if Jack were a small child.

_Really, Kern?_ he thought even as he laughed.

“Jack, you _did_ it!” Kern exclaimed, before pulling Jack in close and kissing him right on the lips, in front of everyone.

They separated after a moment, and Jack said, slightly breathless, "I - I thought I told you to keep it PG."

"In my defense, you're wearing a helmet."

"Cheeky bastard."

"Always."

He pushed at the former god’s shoulders, until he put Jack down - not to say that his hands didn’t leave Jack’s hips - and glanced sheepishly over at the kids. The boys looked disgusted, but not like they disapproved of two males kissing, or one human and one humanoid deer kissing - more in the usual way of boys that age witnessing any form of smooching. The two girls had their hands clasped over their mouths, and he rather suspected they were giggling.

“Sorry about him,” he said, and patted Kern’s bicep. “He was raised in a barn, didn’t learn any manners.”

“I’ll have you know it was a primeval forest, not a barn.”

“That doesn’t help your case at all, Kern.”

Kern grinned, unrepentant, and stepped back to give Jack space. Jack took the opportunity to look at the Guardians. Only Sandy didn’t seem shocked, but then if the rumors were right, Sandy and Hypnos had been gossiping like old biddies for a long, long time. Sandy had probably heard all about Jack and Kern’s brief fling already. Well, ‘brief’ by spirit standards, at any rate.

“Aren’t you a bit old for him mate?  Is that a bit of grey I see there?” Bunny chastened, tone teasing if still edged with annoyance.

Jack’s eyes widened. No way did Bunny mean that any way other than how it sounded - as someone who disapproved of vast differences in a couple’s ages. Jack couldn’t even hope that it meant anything else, not really, because that opinion was shared amongst most older spirits.  Still, he died a little inside - and Bunny must have sensed it, because he shot Jack an odd look and then looked a mite chastened himself.

“Anyways,” Jack said, moving them all on from the awkward moment. “The Oath? North, it’s a bit more complicated than that. I told you when you first kidnapped me - WINTER is a full time job.”

“What is this ‘WINTER’ you speak of, Jack?” Tooth asked, glancing over from her conversation with Baby Tooth.

“Perhaps it would be best to explain all of this back at the Fortress, Jack?” Kern asked, tone gentle as his grip on Jack’s hip tightened in response to Bunny’s remark.

Jack looked over at the kids. “Hey, guys? I’m real sorry, but the Fortress isn’t child friendly, and it’s getting late. If you’re not falling asleep yet, it’s only a few minutes away, am I right?”

There were reluctant nods all around.

“Where the heck is that cleanup crew?”

As if summoned by his whining, a portal opened and snow maidens, valkyries, and even more kitsune spilled out, led by a few other old gods, who began barking orders.  Two burly jotun picked Pitch’s unconscious form up and quickly clapped him in irons, before dragging him back through the portal.

“Oh, there they are,” Jack said, deliberately nonchalant. “Kern, grab a couple minions and see the kids back to their homes. Izanami, take the rest of the crew and set the streets to rights, the fight kind of knocked around a few cars and dented pavement. The rest of us…” He looked at the Guardians and their Guards, and raised his eyebrows. “Feel up to a trip to WINTER HQ? It’ll have to be by sleigh, no sense in leaving it out on the street to get hit or something. And - HQ’s off Greenland right now?”

Bunny groaned at the mention of the sleigh. Jack shot him a grin.

“Aye, ‘tis lad,” one of the other old gods said in reply.  Jack didn’t take the time to figure out what his name was - he always got lost in Old Germanic.

“Right. Not too far, then.” Jack nodded, and once more turned to the children. He knelt down before Jamie, and smiled at them all. “We’ll see each other again, I promise.”

“And then you’ll tell me all about the superhero thing?”

“Sure, kid, sure.  When I can get back.”

_Superhero thing?_

It didn’t matter, really. Kids would believe what they believed, and being thought of as a superhero was actually pretty neat. Jack nodded, to seal the deal, and stood up. “Okay. Kern, Izanami, get your minions and get cracking. Sleigh ho!”

“Jack, who is this ‘Kern’ person?” North asked, gesturing towards his Knight.

“I am Kernunnos, the Horned God of old -” Kern replied grandly.

“More like _horny god_ of old -” Jack muttered, mindful of young ears.

“Hey!”

North boomed a laugh.  “Ah.  I see.  Very well then.  All aboard!”

“Can’t I just take my tunnels, mate?” Bunny whined as he climbed in anyway.

“No access,” Jack pointed out. “Even if there was, we’ve got HQ warded against that sort of thing. Head to Greenland, North, I’ll give directions as they come up.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Monday, 9 April 2012 -- The Fortress, north of Qaqortoq, Greenland, just after midnight**

The sleigh ride wasn’t so bad this time. North didn’t drive like an ocker, not out to impress the new guy. So, there was that.  He wasn’t fit to hurl at a moment’s notice, which meant that he was actually able to appreciate the sight of this ‘Fortress’ when it came into view.

Jack pointed North towards an iceberg that was clearly someone’s residence. It didn’t look much like the fortresses Aster had seen before; mostly it looked like a mountain of an iceberg with a few bits stuck on. In the middle, where it rose up into a rugged point, someone had carved windows and the roughest tower he’d ever seen. There were a few parapets, with the tiny figures of people moving back and forth, patrolling, and several small lookout towers carved into the ice, down near the water.

The iceberg had an odd bulge on one side, with actual walls turning it into a courtyard.

“Down there,” Jack said. “That’s the landing area. Go in slow, let the guards get a good look. I’ll fly beside.”

For some reason, that didn’t sound reassuring.

After a few moments, a horn sounded, deep and long.  Aster watched as Jack tapped his ear and muttered something.  The tone of the horn changed minutely, and a second one joined it.  All the little figures of people he could make out in the courtyard scrambled to clear a space for them to land.  As they came in closer, he was able to make out a plethora of snow maidens, kitsune, even some valkyries and - were those humanoid ravens?

North’s landing was subdued, compared to his usual showing off, and they stopped with room to spare. Jack grinned brightly as he came in to land next to them.

The crowd’s response was… enthusiastic. And _loud_.

Jack held up one hand for quiet, and surprisingly, got it. “Nice to see you all, too,” he said, and gestured at the other Guardians. “Is there a meeting room available? And - hey, Harvey, take care of the reindeer, would you? If you have problems get one of Phil’s shepherds, Bob or Bill, they’ll help.”

One of the snow maidens - this one wearing wire-framed glasses, of all things, and carrying a clipboard - stepped forward and bowed - _bowed_ \- to Jack. “Regent, the others have requested your presence in the Main Hall. You, and your… companions.”

Jack groaned.  “Really? Why all the pomp and circumstance?”

“Well, you _did_ recite the Regent’s Release in _full view_ of your Charge.  And the others’, as well.”

Jack waved one hand, as though dismissing the entire matter. “And that means standing around being bored while the old guys natter on? Oh, all _right_ , don’t look so horrified, we’ll go, we’ll go…”

She clipped her heels together and gave Jack a sharp nod of her head, before marching off.

Frostbite turned and faced them. “Well, follow me, and don’t mind the gawkers.” He turned again, and led the way towards the door, crowd parting before him as though he were Moses and they the Red Sea. The impression was only helped by the majestically flapping cloak. Aster caught snippets of the whispers passing through the crowd as they entered the Fortress through it’s rather crude, yet somehow grandiose, barbican.

“Is that Agent Frostbite?”

“I’ve never seen him in the armor before!”

“He looks so handsome…!”

_Handsome? Well, I suppose he does carry a sort of boyish charm, but ‘handsome’?_

Jack seemed oblivious, even though the awe-filled stares and admiring whispers followed him into the halls. The spirits seemed divided into two kinds; those wearing uniforms and obvious headsets, and those in more ‘casual’ gear. Even the casually dressed spirits had a badge with four ravens on it. It looked a little like the stylized design on Jack’s breastplate, but the details were too small to make out the differences.

“Now, the old guys will be all pompous and ‘we are impressive, bah’, but don’t let them get to you,” Jack said. “They’re old softies, really, I know how to handle them.”

As they neared a pair of huge doors of ice - fashioned with a texturing that mimicked wood - another pair of horns blew, announcing their arrival, and the giant doors swung inward, creating a breeze that ruffled the pair of large banners hung to either side.  A large circular emblem was emblazoned upon them, of four ravens around a snowflake in the center - which, Aster realized belatedly, was the emblem on all the uniforms.  There were words written around the outer edge of the raven motifs.  It read “Winter Intelligence Tactical Espionage and Response.”

_What the bloody hell does that mean?_

Jack skipped to the side once they were past the banners, and so his grin was visible, even with the helmet in the way. “Hey, gramps! Still senile?”

… _Knows how to handle them, huh?_

There were three other people in the room, and the lone woman among them cracked up immediately. One of the men looked like he was heroically ignoring the laughter, while the other - missing an eye, and why did that look familiar? - frowned at Jack.

“Agent Frostbite. Guardians of Childhood. Welcome,” he intoned, and gestured.

The doors closed behind them, of their own accord.

Jack reached up and pulled off his helmet, cradling it in the crook of his arm. “We really need a better design. You can’t turn your head in that thing!”

The more militant-looking man - the one who still had both eyes - chuckled lightly.  “I’ve been saying the same thing for ages!”

The one-eyed man shook his head. “New armor is not in the quarterly budget. Now. Jack Frost. You have revealed the existence of WINTER indiscriminately to these Charges, mortal children, and a dire enemy.”

“You’re just cranky my cloak’s swooshier than yours,” Jack replied cheekily.

The one-eyed man snorted. “Are you allergic to dignity?” he asked. “Or just cruising for a bruising?”

Jack replied immediately.  “Yes.”

“Come closer,” the one-eyed man said, gesturing with one hand. “I need to smack you.”

Jack laughed as he darted forward, only to dance out of the way as the one-eyed man’s promised swing flew by.

“Take your place.  We have much to discuss.  Bring them chairs!”

Another door, a smaller one to the side, opened up and a small stream of anthropomorphic ravens came in, with two tables, and enough chairs for everyone. Four of the chairs looked more like thrones, and the tables were set up in an older style, with one clearly the High Table for the three - leaders? But there was a fourth chair, and who was that for?

Jack began pulling off his armor, revealing his pants, and a completely different shirt from his hooded sweater. The shirt was still blue, but it was more like a quilted jacket, padding for the armor. “I suppose there’s no putting it off,” he commented offhandedly, and sat down at the fourth spot. _At the High Table._

Aster blinked. _What the bleeding hell…?_

The armor was swept off by the - were they servants? They certainly acted like it - leaving the room empty of all but the eight of them once more.

The one-eyed man had the fanciest of the demi-thrones, but Jack’s was almost as fancy, certainly fancier than the other two’s. None of the chairs were made of ice, thankfully. For some reason Aster wasn’t cold in this place, but - there were limits, and he didn’t want to sit on packed snow, however fancily it was carved.

“So, then,” the one-eyed man said, and Aster suddenly recognized him.

Odin.

_Well, bloody buggering hell…_

Odin smirked, as though he was aware that Aster had just realized who he was, but turned to Jack. “Kern kept us updated, but Kern’s updates are…” He raised the eyebrow over his missing eye.

“Scant of information?” Jack suggested, smirking.

“ _Useful_ information,” the woman muttered.

“And overly flattering of you,” the other man murmured.

Jack pretended to simper.

Odin waved their comments off. “Pitch got into the North Pole, Tooth Palace, attacked the Warren, and almost killed Sanderson. However, we are lacking the details, Jack, and so, if you would…” He gestured, but not as though he was requesting. More like he was demanding.

“Alright. Firstly, I’d like to point out that _someone_ thought it was a bright idea to kidnap me as part of an initiation ritual.”

Every pair of eyes - or eye - shot towards North, who had the grace to look - nope, not chastened.  Bewildered.

_Of course._

“But you said you enjoyed it!”

Jack rolled his eyes. “We need to get this man remedial lessons in sarcasm.”

Aster couldn’t help but agree. Or smile, if ever so slightly.  Jack still noticed and grinned at him.

Odin smirked at Jack. “Anika, pencil it in. We’ll have your Knight, Nott, handle that.”

“Of course, Allfather.”

_Anika?_ _That name… and winter…_ Aster mused a moment, before realization hit him hard in the face. _The_ Snow Queen?

“So. Starting from your… kidnapping,” Odin said. “And before we go any further, Jack, don’t take that as an invitation to start hazing the junior agents. If I see anyone riding a unicycle or wrestling with a jotun…”

“In my defense, the jotun wrestling was Thor’s idea, not mine.”

“ _Of course_ it was,” Odin replied, voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm. Even North caught it. “Now, the kidnapping?”

Jack nodded, and began running through the details. He was matter of fact about it - from being brought to North’s Workshop, to the first confrontation with Pitch at the Tooth Palace. Interestingly, the three Regents all looked various degrees of annoyed when Jack revealed Pitch’s taunt about his lack of believers.

“Allfather, permission to -”

“Denied, we have regulations about treatment of prisoners. And _that_ , Anika, would be inappropriate.”

The Snow Queen muttered something about ‘only a little ice’, but subsided.

Jack raised his eyebrows, and then continued. He talked about hunting the lost teeth, waxing eloquently on how he’d coordinated his minions - or as Odin corrected him, Knight and Shepherds - as well as someone called Quetza, while everyone ran around collecting teeth. Hearing him talk about that, well, it explained why Jack had collected the fewest teeth out of the group. He’d been doing a mad juggling act.

Odin frowned at the description of the gifts. “A Christmas tree? Easter Eggs? When you were doing the _Tooth Fairy’s_ duty?” He shook his head. “Continue, Jack, if you please.”

It was just as well that Jack took up the narrative again. It gave Aster time to recover from the feeling of shame Odin’s words invoked. The Tooth Fairy didn’t leave painted eggs for children to find, or Christmas trees and presents. He was amazed Tooth hadn’t said anything at the time, and looking back, well, he couldn’t help but cringe at how he’d been acting during the competition.

They’d meant to help Tooth, not further their own agendas.

Jack was talking about how Sandy had accidentally knocked out everyone in the kid, Jamie’s room, after setting off the demon dog. The three Regents rolled their eyes, but no one commented.

“Hypnos rescued Sandy, obviously,” Jack said, grinning over at the Sandman, who beamed and nodded.

“After that, well, Easter was the next day. And with how Pitch was acting, it was decided we’d help Bunny catch up on the eggs.”

Jack paused when the great doors opened again, letting in the deer-man, and an odd, humanoid serpent. From the waist down, the man was a bronze snake of some kind, likely a constrictor. From the waist up, he turned, well, as human in appearance as Aster was, or the deer-man. He was covered in bronze and cream scales, had a navel and nipples like a human, and bulging muscles in his arms and shoulders, but his face was more serpentine, down to the blunt snout full of sharp teeth and forked tongue. He had a few pieces of gold jewelry, particularly two arm bands high up on his biceps, a collar, and a diadem. The collar and diadem dangled bright green feathers from thin gold chains.

“Kern, Quetza,” Jack said, and waved. “Everything good?”

Kern was the one who nodded, the gesture made expansive by his horns. “Kid’s are tucked up in their beds - at least half of them wrangled three extra glasses of water and two bedtime stories each before the baby agents caught on,” he said, sounding fond. “Your new believers are just as tricky as you are.”

“Believers?” Odin asked, looking inordinately pleased.

Jack waved his hands. “I’m getting there, I’m getting there!”

“Continue, then,” the still-nameless man said.

“Sure thing, Mike.”

The man glared.

“I can’t pronounce your name!” Jack said. He sounded distressed, but the giant grin said otherwise.

“Mstislav, you know he has trouble with Russian,” Anika chided, one hand lightly covering her face, but failing to hide her smile.

_Mstislav? It couldn’t be - General Winter?  Do they have_ every _spirit of import working here?_

“Yeah, does your language have a love affair with consonants?” Jack asked, before he cleared his throat. “So. Easter. Jamie’s sister, Sophie, cute kid, managed to get in to the Warren. Kid must’ve picked North’s pockets while he slept or something, ‘cause only way that happened was with a snow globe, yeah?”

Jack barely mentioned his role in, well, helping Aster handle the kid. It was kind of galling to think about, that he’d needed the help, but there it was. For the last - what was it now, six? Seven? Maybe eight centuries, actually - the most interaction he’d had with children was hiding in the bushes watching over them.

Jack got quiet, though, once he’d explained how he’d returned Sophie to her home.

“I, ah, I dropped her off - that kid clings like cling-wrap, you know that? Or maybe a kudzu vine or something. But yeah, Baby Tooth and I left her in her bed, well, beside her bed, she kind of fell out of bed…”

Baby Tooth squeaked off to the side, hopping up off up the snake-man’s shoulder and dashing forward.

“Xochitl, come back here!” he yelped as she dashed off.

_Xochitl?  Nahuatl? Not heard that in a long,_ long _time._

“Hold, Quetzalcoatl. Let the young one speak.”

Quetzalcoatl?  That explained so much.  Baby Tooth took that as the permission it was and flew right up to hover before Odin, and proceeded to chatter on at length; Aster couldn’t keep up, but Odin was nodding right along, so he must have been able to understand the little sheila.

Odin held out one hand for Baby Tooth to rest on, and looked over at Jack. “Do you still have your toothbox?”

“Uh, well, yes… Sort of, it’s in my pocket, so…” Jack hiked up the quilted jacket to reveal his hoodie, and rummaged in the pocket. “Here,” he said, and put the golden box on the table.

The Allfather scowled, and tapped it once with a finger. Something dark crawled across the top, and he spat an old Norse curse. Then he turned and looked at the Snow Queen. “ _Well_?”

She stood and moved to stand next to the box, peering down at it.  After a moment, she held out one hand and waved her fingers in a complicated pattern.  Almost immediately, a strange scream could be heard, at the edge of even Aster’s hearing. Slowly, over the course of a minute, an inky black _thing_ coiled up and off of the box to hover as a dark, roiling ball of darkness right beneath her palm.  Her fingers flexed, once, and the darkness froze solid and then shattered.

“It is done,” she stated, satisfaction evident in her tone.  “That was very dark sympathetic magic.  A Compelling.  The holder of the box could tug on the mind of the one’s whose teeth were held inside.  This explains much.”

“So it does,” Odin agreed, and turned to Jack. “With this new information in mind, continue.”

“So there was a reason,” Jack muttered, and nodded. “When Baby Tooth and I left Sophie’s room, I heard… well, I heard my _sister_ calling my name. _Jack, Jack_ … I - I _had_ to follow. And then I ended up in Pitch’s lair.” Jack shuddered. “Crazy layout, really crazy. And it’s like he never heard of color TV, everything was grayscale. Really depressing. He had the boxes of teeth haphazardly piled along one wall, and all the other mini-fairies in cages. They couldn’t get out. And the moment he showed up, with my toothbox in one hand… I think I lost my mind, a little. He just kept going on and on, about… stuff.” Jack looked away.

After a minute, though, he looked up, staring directly at Odin. “I knew he was lying, because he was talking about how no one would ever accept me or anything. And, well…” He gestured at the room. “WINTER! But then he somehow opened a door to Bunny’s tunnels - they’re supposed to be protected!”

Jack turned to Bunny, now. “Don’t freak out, but we’ve been testing your security for ages, and it’s… what’s the term, aces? Whatever, awesome works. I mean, _we_ can get in, but we don’t mean harm, so…”

Jack continued to ramble, going faster and faster the longer Aster stared at him. They - these WINTER characters - _snuck_ into _his_ Warren? And did _what_ , exactly? Oooh, he was going to have to go over the place with a fine tooth comb! What a thought. Bah!

“How did Pitch open up an access to the tunnels?” General Winter asked.

“One of the tunnel entrances,” Jack corrected him. “I just… appeared, on the inside. But still in the tunnel, so… I don’t know.”

Oh.  Well, bloody hell.  He’d never though to ward the _doors_ , because the Warren was guarded against intrusion, but the eggs needed to be able to get out.  He’d have to figure out a way to fix that.

“Anyways,” Jack said, waving the question off. “We can wonder about that later. I, uh, I don’t know how, because when I entered Pitch’s lair it was night, and I couldn’t have spent _that_ long in there, though we _did_ work all night so it was pretty late…” Jack shook his head.

“Time dilation, most likely.  Pitch is _ever so_ fond of it,” the Snow Queen noted.  General Winter nodded his agreement.  “Do continue.”

“I ended up in England, yeah? There were… it was supposed to be an Easter Egg hunt.” He looked over at Aster, shoulders hunched. 

That look… it made Aster’s head hurt.  And then it clicked.  The magic that Pitch used, between the teeth and messing with Jack’s sense of time, _guaranteed_ he’d be not only unable to _not_ go to the lair, but not be able to leave until the time of Pitch’s choosing.  Which meant that he’d planned for Jack to arrive late, which meant that Pitch had planned for Jack to appear to betray them.

As Aster’s eyes widened at that realization, guilt came crashing down.  They’d played right into Pitch’s hands.

“Oh, Jack…” Tooth murmured, one hand lifting to cover her mouth.

Jack cleared his throat. “Well, you know, we’d pinned all our _hope_ on the egg hunts going well, and when they failed… I guess everyone was a little upset. And Bunny got walked through, which, trust me, I _know_ how painful that is.” He grinned over at Aster, and shrugged one shoulder. “ _Mea culpa_? Is that right?”

Aster blinked and averted his eyes.  He couldn’t handle the casual way that Jack spoke of this, not when he’d really not done anything wrong.  And the easy way he spoke of being walked through, as if it happened every day -

_Oh._

North cleared his throat, and leaned forward. “Jack, I wish to say how very sorry I am for jumping to conclusion like that. Nothing of you has suggested such a thing would be in personality.”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Tooth interjected. “I’m sorry too, Jack.  We should have put more faith in you.”

Something tapped Aster on the shoulder.  Glancing over, he found Sandy staring at him expectantly.

“Alright! Fine!” Aster threw up his hands. “I forgive him too!”

Sandy gave him a look of consternation.

_Oh, right._

“I mean, uh, sorry Jack.  I - I should have not jumped to conclusions.”

Jack shrugged again. “They _were_ kinda inevitable, Pitch was manipulating the situation right, left, and center,” he pointed out. That did _not_ make Aster feel any better. 

“Anyways, after that, I…” He looked down at the table. “I’d failed. In my duty, in my… I’d somehow left Baby Tooth behind in Pitch’s lair, and everyone was kind of… upset. So I headed up to Antarctica. Pitch had been laying in wait, I guess.”

Aster’s last meal _(an egg salad sandwich three and a half days ago)_ curdled in his stomach. So to speak. Pitch had attacked Jack, emotionally, and yet Jack still hadn’t turned on them. Or on WINTER, he supposed; Odin’s group clearly had Jack’s loyalty and trust, while the Guardians… and then Pitch had used Baby Tooth against Jack? And broken Jack’s staff? And he’d _still_ turned around and saved their weakened behinds after that?

Guilt did not taste good.

“And then Jamie _saw me_ ,” Jack said, grinning. “He _actually…_ from now on I’m making it snow indoors for all the kids, if that’s what it takes!”

Odin actually grinned, and clapped one hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Very good, Jack,” he said. “I could not be prouder than if Thor finally proposed to that woman of his. Mind, if you require a _mundr_ first, this might eclipse you're finally getting some believers.”

Jack made a face. “Me? _Marry_? You’re kidding, right?”

Aster snorted as he suppressed a laugh.  Frostbite really did not seem the type.

Odin cleared his throat. “You have sufficiently explained matters, yes. But perhaps… do any of you, Guardians, have questions for us? Sanderson has known of WINTER since our inception - I should have mentioned this to you, Jack, Sanderson is like Seraphina, Mother Nature, who accepted our protection from the very beginning.”

“It was just never relevant, I understand,” Jack replied.

_Reasonably, again. Would he stop being reasonable so I can stop feeling guilty?_

“I have question,” North said, quite predictably. “What is this WINTER you speak of?  And why does Jack sit at high table?”

Odin reached up and adjusted his eyepatch, of all things. “WINTER encompasses a great deal…. You would be better off asking your chief guards, or Knights. For you, Nickolas, that would be the yeti, Phil. Tooth, you should speak with Quetzalcoatl, there, and Bunnymund, it would be wise for you to direct your curiosity to Jack, he will have more time to satisfy your curiosity.

“As for Jack’s status in WINTER… the lowest level of our ranks are the Shepherds, and then the Knights, who are our typical agents. We have some specialists who we refer to as Lords, and they will occasionally take to the field, although that is a rare day indeed. And above the Lords are the Regents, who lead this organization; that would be myself, Anika, Mstislav… and Jack.”

Aster stared, dumbfounded, at Jack.

Jack hunched his shoulders and grinned sheepishly. “You would not _believe_ the paperwork,” he added cheekily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaya's Commentary: "More explanations to follow, but who called Jack's rank?"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Yes! Who called it? Also also: *evil cackling*"


	8. Chapter 8

**Monday, 9 April 2012 -- Infirmary, The Fortress, north of Qaqortoq, Greenland, 1:02 am local time**

“Argh - hey, watch it!” Aster pulled away from the demon-medic with the sharp, pokey fingers, and rubbed at his sore ear. “No. You’re not taking my temperature.”

The demon-medic scowled at him. “It’s either by ear or with the rectal thermometer. Take your pick.”

“... _fine_.  Just be quick about it,” he grunted and braced for the insertion. Those fingers were not going _anywhere_ near his bum.

“So cranky, Cottontail,” Jack said, from the next bed over. He had an IV line in one arm (why did he need an IV line?) and there had been _three_ medics all poking him, and one curse breaker. It couldn’t have just been his rank, which… mind boggling as it was, Aster was fully willing to admit a Regent of the organization outranked the Guardians of Childhood, who weren’t actually injured but being checked over just in case.

No, the medics and curse breaker had been making sure Pitch hadn’t done anything _permanent_ to Frostbite. Like broken ribs - instead, they were only cracked.   _Only_.

“Poked the back of my ear,” Aster grumbled, and winced when the demon-medic gave said ear a light tug in remonstration.

“Gladyce,” Jack chided.

The demon-medic - Gladyce, apparently - glanced at Jack, sighed, and nodded in resignation.  Her touch wasn’t much gentler, but, well, it _was_ gentler.

 _I guess him being Regent has to have at least_ some _perks._

Aster looked around, the moment Gladyce stopped manhandling his poor ears, or whatever she’d been doing to them. North was stretched out on his bed looking far too relaxed, considering all the sharp, pointy things that weren’t in his hand - North never did well when someone else had the weapons, really. Sandy was chatting with a barely visible wisp of purple light Jack had greeted as ‘Hypnos’, and apparently they were doing the sand-language equivalent of fast-paced gossip. Tooth, in complete defiance of the medics’ instructions, was flitting about the room poking at every bit of possible decoration she saw.

“Jack,” she asked, and swung around to hover near the winter spirit’s bedside. “Why are the magazines out of date?”

“‘Cause… this is kind of a doctor’s office? And after you’ve been shot, stabbed, set on fire… boring is kind of nice.”

_Shot, stabbed, set on fire… okay, how many of that’s been done to him personally?_

Aster shook his head. “Get a lot of that?” he asked.

Jack tilted his head at a painful looking angle, and sighed. “You have no idea.”

And, Aster realized, he really, really didn’t.  He should think on that.

Tooth fluttered away again, leaving Aster to his thoughts - the medics seemed to be done with him, for the moment - and Jack to whatever he was contemplating. The stuff in the IV seemed to be a kind of painkiller, for the ribs and assorted heavy bruising, though it wasn’t having as much effect as Aster would have expected. There was a - well, he supposed the man was an agent - a few beds down, on what he was fairly certain was the same dosage of the same stuff, and _he_ was out like the proverbial light.

And snoring.

Kind of loudly.

“What’s this?” Tooth asked, and pulled a stack of papers down off the wall. Looked like they were meant to come off, they’d been hung on two nails and holes punched in the top corners. “Agent Frostbite Do Not List?”

Jack opened one eye. “Oh, don’t look at that. Nothing important.”

Aster held out a hand.  “Tooth, give it here please.”

She flit over and handed the list over.  Aster scanned it quickly, used to reading at a fast pace, and guffawed.  “Oh, guys, you have _got_ to hear some these!”

Jack groaned in resignation and flopped back on his bed as North and Sandy indicated that they were paying attention.  Aster cleared his throat and began reading off the list. Just the highlights; there were several pages, and reading them all out loud would have been just a little much.

“Let’s see now… Oh, these’re good:

“ _My proper military title is 'Agent Frostbite' not 'Princess Anastasia'._

“ _Not allowed to play 'Pulp Fiction' with a suction-cup dart pistol and any agent._

“ _Not allowed to add 'in accordance with the prophesy' to the end of answers I give to a question an agent asks me._

“ _The Irish division is not after ‘Me frosted lucky charms’.  Not even the leprechauns.  Especially the leprechauns._

“ _Not allowed to let sock puppets take responsibility for any of my actions._

“ _The proper response to a lawful order is not ‘Why?’_

“ _It is better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission,” no longer applies to Agent Frostbite._

“ _Must not start any SITREP with ‘I recently had an experience I just had to write you about….’_

“ _If the thought of something makes me giggle for longer than 15 seconds, I am to assume that I am not allowed to do it._

“ _Not allowed to use a broadsword to disprove ‘The Pen is Mightier than the sword.’ Or a zweihander. Or any sword. Axes aren’t swords, Jack!_

“ _The proper way to report to the Regents is ‘Agent Frostbite, reporting as ordered,’ not ‘You can’t prove a thing!’_

“ _We do not ‘charge into battle, naked, like the Celts.’ ‘But Kern does it’ doesn't mean you can._

“ _I am not allowed to sing 'Henry the VIII I am' until verse 68 ever again._

“… and -”

“Oh my god, Bunny!  Stop!” Jack exclaimed, red-faced, before grabbing a spare pillow and hiding under it.

Aster lowered the papers, and grinned at him. “What, don’t like sharing the daring tales of your exploits? Guys, I say we re-think adding him as a Guardian - not because he’s a hooligan an’ got a full time job already, but because he’d clearly drive us all mad.”

Jack peeked out from under the pillow and sat up partially, leaning towards Aster on one arm.  “Was that - was that a _sense of humor_ , Bunny?  Or do mine ears deceive me?”

 

“ _Hey_ , I’ve got a sense of humor. It’s refined and tasteful,” the Pooka replied without pause, before indicating the stack of papers he held in his paws. “It’s no wonder you never recognized it.”

Jack blinked and stared, mouth slightly parted.  After a moment, he flopped back and sighed.  “My god, the world’s coming to an end.  Bunny made a _joke_ and - and -”

Kern laughed from the other side of the room.  “I win!”

“... and I owe Kern now.  Damn it, lost the bet.”

“Bet?” Aster asked, frowning. “You bet on… on me ever telling a _joke_?”

“Oh, we bet on lots of things!  Like you joking, North getting a clue, Jack finally asking -”

“ _Hey_!” Jack yelled, glaring at Kern, who simply smiled back serenely, unrepentant.

“I joke lots of times,” Aster muttered, scowling down at the foot of the bed. He did. He just… didn’t say any of it out loud, did he?

“Oh, hey,” Jack said, turning to - what was Kern to him, friend, lover, underling…? The kiss said one thing, the job another, and their behavior… confusing.

“Kern, I won two bets. Naughty list and sleigh driving. That’s… five hundred and then another… what _is_ driving the sleigh up to, now?”

Kern pulled out a small black book and a tiny pair of dark green wire-framed reading glasses, which he perched on the tip of his short cervine nose. He flipped through several pages, skimming, before apparently finding what he was looking for.

“Ah, oh, wow, I’d forgotten how - twenty-five hundred, Jack.”

“... I’m rich.” Jack frowned and looked down at himself. “Does this mean I have to buy a new sweater or something? Maybe a hair dryer?”

Kern flipped several more pages.  “Ah, you might want to hold off on that.  You bet two thousand against Bunnymund having a sense of humor.”

“Hey!” Aster folded his arms and fumed. Jack - supposedly the guy who watched him, and that wasn’t creepy at all, no, he wasn’t thinking about it - thought he didn’t have a sense of humor?

That was just…

“Hey, Guardian of _Fun_ here!  I had good reason to believe that!  He never laughed at any of my jokes, pranks, or witty comebacks!  Nor did he ever counter with anything amusing, just -”

“Oh, so you will be Guardian?” North asked, almost tactfully cutting Jack off, eyes alight in delight at the banter and the prospect of Jack actually accepting the position.

Aster ignored North. “Those jokes, pranks, and so-called witty comebacks were at _my_ expense,” he pointed out, growling only a little.

Really. Only a _little_.

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Aster never got to find out what he was going to say, which was probably going to be something inane and ‘witty’ - his furry arse - anyway, as the doors to the infirmary burst open just then and a large, muscular man barged in, waving around Jack’s staff in - _two pieces?_

“ _What have you done to your staff?”_ he bellowed.

“Pitch did it!” Jack immediately fired back, before hiding under his covers.

The large man growled darkly.  “If not for his imprisonment, I would wring his scrawny little neck! But you promised not to break it only a few decades past and now _this_!  And to top it all off, your magic has changed - again! - and I have to adapt the staff to the changes!  Do you have _any_ idea how much work that is?”

Jack lifted up the edge of the blanket he was hiding under.  “Weyland!  Calm down!  It’s not my fault - well, okay, it is my fault, but that’s not the point - I found my Center!  You knew that would happen eventually!  I’m - I’m the _Guardian of Fun_ now, so -”

“I don’t care if you’re the Guardian of Sunshine, Rainbows, and Happy Kittens, you let your staff get broken and now I have to fix it! And you,” Weyland glowered at Jack, “get paperwork. Staff’s not fixed until papers are filed.”

“But Weyland,” Jack whined, popping out of the blankets, hair mussed like a small child’s after just waking.

“Don’t ‘but Weyland’ me.” Weyland looked around the room, scowled at everyone, and then turned on Kern. The ensuing conversation was in a variant of Gaelic Aster had never learnt, so he caught perhaps one word in twenty. Kern made placating gestures, Weyland threatened the deer-man with one half of the staff, and then left.

“Well, that happened,” Jack noted, sounding stunned.

“Yeah. What was that?” Aster shook his head.  
“ _That_ was Weyland.  The Forgemaster.  He makes the weapons, crafts the gear, and, in cases like Jack’s, repairs and maintains spirits’ foci,” Kern supplied helpfully after a moment’s pause to visibly shake himself out of his own surprise.

Right, that… Aster shook his head again. “Guardian of Fun?” he asked Jack. “Explains a lot.”

Explained… everything, really.  Or just about.  It made so much _sense_ too.

“Yeah, doesn’t it?” Jack cautiously settled back down in bed, eyeing the doors warily all the same. “I turn happy-funtime-snowballs dangerous.”

“What’s in the painkillers?” Tooth asked.

“No,” Kern said, and sighed. “That’s just Jack.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Tuesday, 17 April 2012 -- Warren, 12:34 pm local time**

The more he thought about it, the less he liked it.

WINTER. Jack bloody Frost watching over his shoulder. Being considered inept and unable to take care of his own bloody self.

He was a Pooka warrior of the first class! He’d survived worse than anything this planet could possibly throw at him - basic training, the Fearling Wars - both of them - and orbital bombardment. He didn’t need, and _especially_ did not want, a bunch of _children_ thinking they had to protect him!

He was a grown man, and it was past time they started treating him like one!

Aster did admit, if only to himself, that he would have felt better about the situation if he hadn’t woken up that first morning back in his Warren to find his tunnels cleaned up. Perfectly. No broken googies, not even a single missed drop of melted chocolate.

It’d been unsettling, and stayed unsettling, which was why he was yelling at the trees now.

“I know you’re out there!” Aster tapped the boomerang against his palm. “So get out here and stop hiding!”

“Whatcha need, Cottontail?” Jack answered.

 _From directly behind him_.

“Gah!” Aster whirled, and at least swiped with the hand _not_ holding the boomerang. “Wotcha- Jack! You bleeding drongo, don’t _do_ that!”

Jack lazily dodged the backhanded swipe by way of hopping up onto the crook of his staff and balancing there, impossible as though it might seem.

“You called, I came,” Jack said lightly.  “Not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You- my ears are perfect,” Aster snapped. “You see them? See how big they are? Perfect! I can hear _water_ drip on _cotton_ fifty yards away you wanker, so how the bloody hell did you - you flew, didn’t you? Cheater!”

“Only up to that rock over there.  I walked the rest of the way, honest!”

Aster glanced over at the rock that was about… _ten yards_ away? What in the -

“... Not the point. This stalking thing. I want it to stop.”

“Can’t.  It’s my job,” Jack replied, leaning backwards and catching his toes around the crook so he could hang, suspended in the air at an impossible angle and stretched. “And, no, before you ask, no one else can replace me.  You’re… _too_ important.”

Odd emphasis, that.  But that was a thought for another time.

“No, no, you’re not getting it, I want the watching to stop! Period. No more herders or pages or whatever they’re bloody well called! I am a _warrior_ , Frostbite. I don’t need taken care of.” Aster drew himself up to his full height, and folded his arms.

Jack sighed gustily. “You don’t want the other watchers? Fine, I can… give them some leave, for a while. But you’re stuck with me.”

“Well I don’t want stuck with you,” Aster muttered. “And why are you watching _me_ , anyways? North I get, he’d put tinfoil in the microwave and think it brilliant, and Tooth - well, memories are important. Sandy actually _likes_ his stalker. But me?”

“You do realize you’re not just Hope, but _Life_ , right?” Jack queried, honest bewilderment plain in his voice.

“Well, yeah.” And? So he’d maybe accidentally kick-started that Cambrian explosion back a ways, what of it? No one in their right mind - or wrong one - would try to off him.

“You go, everything follows.  Ring any bells?”

“Yes, Jack, the entire chorus of them. No one’s _that_ dumb.”

Jack fell off his staff, laughing hysterically. The laughter was only interrupted momentarily by his impact with the ground - a muffled ‘oof!’ the only acknowledgement of the fall - before the near-wheezing laughter continued.  The drongo was actually _crying_.

“Jack.” Aster reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Jack, it’s not funny. Stop laughing.” Nope, still laughing. After a moment’s thought, Aster walked over to his Color River, pulled out a small, collapsible drinking cup, and filled it with paint. Then he walked back and dumped it over Jack’s head.

_That’s funny… Look at all the different colors!_

Jack froze, mid-laugh. “Did you just…? Polaris, I must look like Tooth shed all over me now!”

“Nah, more reds and yellows than green and blue. Oh, and pink… purple… orange… Good look on ya, mate.”

Jack snickered, obviously despite himself.

Wait.  He made Jack _laugh_? Not at him, like earlier, but - but to an honest joke? That was - new.

“Well, now you’re done the hyena impression,” Aster said, shaking off his bemusement. “Take a break. I’m going out, to get some paints my river can’t do, and I really, really don’t need followed. _No stalking_. Not even a little bit. Get me?”

Jack snickered, and shrugged.

Good as he was going to get, he supposed, and wandered off to his tunnels.

_Hmm… South America first, I think…._

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Tuesday, 17 April 2012 -- Amazon Rainforest, Brazil, 6:44 am local time**

Aster ducked the punch, dodged the kick, and then jumped and kicked his opponent with both legs. Superior muscle won out, and the scrawny little whatever-it-was went flying into a sapling. The sapling broke, which meant his opponent continued on into the much larger tree behind it.

His opponent didn’t get up. Aster walked over just to make sure, but there wasn’t a need. Out cold. Five minute fight, not a scratch on him…. He almost suspected Jack, or his fellow WINTER nutjobs, to have set it all up just to prove he ‘needed’ them. Clearly not!

His opponent was an ugly one, now that he had a chance to look. Skin the color of burnt custard, and his- her? its? - face was covered in the worst acne Aster had ever seen. There were three tiny horn-buds, one on the left side of its forehead, two on the right. One ear looked like the recent movies with Tolkien’s elves, while the other looked… chewed on. The rest of the body was much the same, thankfully covered in what looked like one long strip of black linen wrapped around the limbs and torso.

Even if Jack’s WINTER companions hadn’t been behind this… a joke, that’s what it was. A piss-poor joke.

Aster turned around, dusting his paws off, and wandered down the path, rounding the bend in short order, returning to the clearing where he’d first been attack, and - stopped to stare.

There was a large pile of those creatures in the center of the clearing, mostly frozen in place, as well as at least a half dozen more covered in ice and stuck to trees around the periphery at awkward, probably painful, angles.  Eyeballing the pile, Aster estimated it at about twenty or so creatures, at least.

And Jack was sitting atop the pile leisurely, staff cocked at a lazy angle against his shoulder, one leg propped up against his chest.

“Hey, Bunny. Finished with yours?” he asked, tone suspiciously light.

 _What_.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Thursday, 19 April 2012 -- Lake Biwa, Shiga Prefecture, Honshu, Japan - 4:32 pm local time**

“I told you to stop following me!” Aster loomed over Jack, and poked one finger into the winter spirit’s chest.

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Okay, look, long ears, I kind of have to. My job, remember?”

“I’m dismissing you from your job!”

“Eeto, sumimasenka?” the dragon-shark-thing spoke up from where it was frozen to a tree.

They ignored it.

“You _can’t_ , Bunny.  That’s not your call!”

“It should be. I don’t want this protection, I don’t need it, now why don’t you take a hike already?”

“... Eigoka? Um… hello?” the trapped spirit tried again.

Aster turned and glowered at the dragon-shark. “Can’t you see we’re having us a private conversation? Wait your turn.”

The creature stared at him, wide-eyed.  “...Okay.”

“Thank you,” Jack tossed it’s way offhandedly.  “You’re not listening!”

“No, I am, I really am, but let’s face it Jack, I don’t need you!”

The _wani_ managed to get one arm free.  Jack promptly froze it in place again with a wave of his staff, without removing his glare from Aster’s.

“Stay. I’ll have words with you _later_.”

The water spirit squeaked and stayed still.

“Don’t change the subject,” Aster said, and poked at Jack’s chest again. “You’re a nuisance, and those foxes of yours are annoying, and Kern - just, no. No more. Not in my Warren, not in my presence, you all go now. Away. _Not here_.”

Jack sighed loudly. “It doesn’t work that way. Deal.” Jack spun towards the trapped water dragon-shark-thing - _wani_ , Aster reminded himself - and glared.  “As for you - _nani o kangaete ita no_?”

Aster sputtered as - as the drongo just ignored him!

Well, he wasn’t going to take that! He was - he was - leaving! Ha!

That’ll show him!

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Monday, 23 April 2012 -- Sar-i Sang, Kuran Wa Munjan District, Badakhshan Province, Afghanistan - 2:12 pm local time**

Aster leaned back against a pile of waste rock, arms folded and expression arranged in a facsimile of polite interest. He had his lapis lazuli in a large pouch, hung at his hip, and all he needed now was for the fight to finish.

Really, Jack wasn’t doing too bad. Mind, his opponent wasn’t much - looked like a baby manticore, all paws and tails and less trumpet-voice and more… like a duck. With a head cold. But it was Afghanistan, it was midday, and Jack wasn’t able to use much of his ice powers, it seemed. Too hot, Aster supposed.

The manticore reminded him of a pet he’d had back as a sprog, only smaller. It even had the bat-like wings, although this manticore had tiny little ones that flapped desperately every time it backed up. Really cute. Aster debated just capturing the thing and taking it home to the Warren, but… better not. They grew up, and ate his googies, and that just wouldn’t work out.

Still, he _could_ tease the Frostbite about it.

“Think you can get a halter on it?” he called.

“A - what? Bunny, no. You’re _not_ taking this thing home!” Jack shouted back. He dodged another tail strike, deflecting it handily into a bush with his staff.

“But look, don’t you think it’s just the cutest little thing?”

Jack danced back several feet, giving himself enough time to shoot Aster a dumbfounded look. “It - _cute?_ Are you - is the heat getting to you, Cottontail?”

“No more’n you. But the bitty little wings - and the tail, don’t you think that’s adorable, way it’s flailing about?” The manticore gave another diseased squawk. Aster cooed. Purposefully.

“No. Just… no. It’d eat your eggs!”

 _Already figured that one out, Frostbite…_ “Are you saying I’m not allowed a pet? That’s not on, Jack. Stalker you might be, you’ve no right to dictate what animals I can and cannot keep!”

“ _Not a carnivore_! Anything but that!” He dodged another tail swipe, this time managing to shoot off a bit of frost, blinding the poor thing temporarily.

“But the carnivores are easier to train!”

“ _You’re a rabbit_!”

“Pooka.”

“Kangaroo!”

“More in common with a bear than a ‘roo, mate.” And if sea food didn’t taste so nasty, he could even eat it.

“Fine! A - a… wombat!”

Aster smirked. “Wombat against car, wombat wins. I’ll take it.”

Jack growled in frustration and slammed his staff down, hard. A ring of ice appeared around the manticore pup, just as it cleared it’s vision of frost.  The ice was thick, so it’d stick around long enough for them to make their exit.

“I _hate_ the desert,” Jack whined.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Friday, 27 April 2012 -- The Black Forest, Baden-Württemberg, Germany, 10:08 am local time**

Aster watched as Kern smashed the _waldgeist_ in the face with the butt of his spear. It stopped dead and dropped, then and there. It didn’t get back up.

He folded his arms. “Where’s Jack?” His favorite stalker hadn’t been the one to show up - not that Aster cared, really, he didn’t, it was nice not being followed around by the annoying snowflake - but Kern and the kitsune were hardly subtle. A nice, relaxing trip to sketch the lake had turned into annoyance piled on irritation, ending with the would-be ambush by the _waldgeist_.

And then Kern trying to show off. Which just… capped off the whole day just right, didn’t it?

“He’s with Toothiana,” Kern replied tersely, more because he was busy binding the creature with vines he’d called from the earth than because he was being irritable.

 _With Tooth? Why?_ “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. He - it’s his toothbox.  They’re… going through his memories.” Kern nodded, satisfied, and moved towards Aster, stopping a respectful distance away and leaning up against a tree.

“Thought he saw them already,” Aster murmured, before circling around to study the captive.

“He told me that they’d just flashed by. He only caught the barest snippets.” Kern watched him idly, but didn’t move from his tree. “He’s going through them more carefully, with her guidance.”

“He told you?” The _waldgeist_ looked uglier unconscious than awake. Hard to believe, but clearly true.

“Didn’t have to. I saw the way he was looking at the toothbox earlier, before he asked me to cover for him. I put two and two together, got four.” Kern shrugged.

Aster scowled, and turned around. “Right. Well, great. Good for you. Going back to my Warren, your tromping around’s just annoying.”

“See you there!” Kern replied cheerfully, falling back into the tree as if it was suddenly made of nothing and disappearing from sight.

_Bloody arsehole… at least Jack can hold a proper convo._

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Friday, 27 April 2012 -- forest near Kebnekaise, northern Sweden, 9:19 pm local time**

Blood matted down the fur on his shoulder, but the pain was a distant thing held off by adrenaline and - not panic because he _wasn’t panicking_.

He was just - strategically retreating, to more open ground. One did _not_ fight a wolf pack in the middle of an arctic forest, at dusk, in their territory, and expect to win. And these weren’t just wolves.

They were _vargr_.

Where was Jack? Why wasn’t he swooping in like the annoying little stalker he was? Hell, he’d take _Kern_ , at this rate!

He ran faster. There was a _vargr_ snapping at his heels, another pacing him to one side, the third somewhere on the other side. He was being herded, he knew it, and - and it wasn’t like he could open a tunnel while running for his life! As close as they were, they’d follow him right in, and he was most emphatically _not_ giving them the run of the Warren.

Forget eating the googies, they’d set up in his bed and chew on his thigh bones! And he needed those!

He saw a lighter patch of ground up ahead, through the trees… possibly meant it was more open. He took the chance and dashed for it.

It wasn’t more open.

Someone - something? - had torn the branches off the inner ring of a small circle of trees, so the moonlight could shine down unimpeded - and the underbrush could grow in too thick for a regular-sized rabbit to squirm through, never mind a human-sized Pooka.

_Fuck._

He skid to a stop, and whirled to face the _vargr_ , boomerang in one hand, bush knife in the other.

The trio of nasty, overgrown wolves stopped at the edge of the clearing, and they were all snarling. Their fangs were as long as his fingers. Longer, actually, now that he got a good look at them - and he really didn’t want to look any closer.

He was conscious of the blood on his shoulder, the scent that formed a cloud around him. His hands shook, and his stomach cramped. Wolves. It had to be _bloody wolves_. He hated canines, all of them, nasty, slobbering beasts!

The biggest _vargr_ began to stalk forward and around the edge of the faux-clearing. Drool dripped from its chin. Where it landed, the ground hissed ever so faintly. Its eyes blazed a dark, golden yellow in the faint light, without pupil or sclera to be seen.

“Back off,” Aster spat, pointing the boomerang at it. “You just bloody well rack off right now you filthy rat-bag, I’m warning you…”

The second-biggest _vargr_ began circling in the other direction.

And the smallest charged, maw opening and a horrific roar filling Aster’s ears. It leapt, forepaws outstretched, aimed directly at Aster.

He couldn’t help it. He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Writing the series of fights was very fun, and yes, we absolutely had to end on a cliffhanger. Deal. We have to have a minimum of ten nasty cliffhangers each per quarter, or we lose our memberships, so... Thank you for helping us keep our posts in the Evil Authors Club!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "It's only a week until the next update folks! Enjoy the cliffhanger!"
> 
> Edit:  
> Sorry! I forgot to translate the Japanese:
> 
> “Eeto, sumimasenka?" - Basically "Um, pardon me?"  
> "Eigoka?" - Basically, "English?" [the language]; in Japanese, "ka" makes a sentence a question (so, technically, the question marks are not required and would not be used in proper Japanese text)  
> "nani o kangaete ita no" - Basically, "What do you think you are doing?" [informal]


	9. Chapter 9

**Friday, 27 April 2012 -- Somewhere over northern Sweden, 9:20 pm local time**

Jack screamed soundless encouragement to the Wind - soundless, because their combined speed meant he couldn’t hear anything but her deadly scream in his ears. There was fast, and then there was breaking the sound barrier, and they’d done that two minutes and thirty-five seconds ago.

If he hadn’t been wearing the armor, he probably would’ve been dead. Flying faster than the speed of sound was a bad idea when you were leading with your _face_.

At least his lungs didn’t explode whenever he opened his mouth - the helmet was finally good for something. And his eyes hadn’t liquified yet, probably because he’d formed rough goggles out of his ice.

The Wind’s shriek changed, and suddenly they were diving. Jack couldn’t get any more streamlined, he’d even lost the cloak because the flapping slowed him down too much, but he tried.

The ground rushed up at him. The dark furry thing rushed even faster.

Jack never would be able to figure out why his neck hadn’t broken when he hit the thing - maybe the gorget, but it wasn’t designed for such force.

Although for a moment there, he thought it had.

Turned out that cracking sound? Yeah, not _his_ neck.

The - oh, that was a _vargr_ \- wasn’t going to get up anytime soon, though.

Jack flipped up onto his feet, and spun around. Two left. One in front, one behind, Bunny beside him… whatever, he’d dealt with worse odds.

“Jack!” Bunny shifted so he was watching Jack’s back. “About bloody time you showed up, Frostbite!”

“First time Manny spoke to me in three centuries, and it was to tell me where you were, Cottontail.”

The _vargr_ didn’t let them get any further in their conversation.

Jack swung his staff up, and met the front _vargr_ with an improvised spear; just a chunk of sharp ice attached to the butt of his staff. _Bunny’ll just have to prove he can handle himself after all,_ he thought, and slashed at the _vargr’s_ face.

The beast snarled, ducked aside, right into Jack’s kick. It snapped at his ankle, catching his foot, but couldn’t bite all the way through the armor. He ignored the faint pain, which was more from the pressure than anything else, and brought the crook of his staff down on the _vargr’s_ forehead with as much strength as he could. Ice crackled over the _vargr’s_ fur, and it yelped and let go of his foot.

It staggered to the side, eyes unfocused. Even as strange as they were, that was obvious enough. Jack kicked it again, in the ribs, and this time his armored foot connected. The _vargr_ yelped a second time, and apparently lost its temper.

Jack went down under the creature’s charge, landing hard enough on his back that for a second he couldn’t breathe. He felt the _vargr’s_ claws tear at his armored shoulders, so he did the only thing he could think of.

He grabbed the _vargr’s_ forepaws tight, and kicked up into the beast’s stomach with all his strength.

It flipped up and over, forepaws suddenly the fulcrum it was whirling around.

Jack let go the instant the _vargr_ hit the ground, and scrambled to his feet while it was still stunned. He caught up his staff, and chanced a look over at Bunny.

Bunny was - well, he was already injured, so that was working against him, but he was still pinned beneath the other _vargr_ , one hand keeping it’s jaws at bay with his boomerang and the other scrambling for purchase.

_What is it with him and canines?_

Jack quickly formed and threw a snowball, which glimmered faintly blue in the moonlight.  He knew the happiness-inducing effect wouldn’t work correctly on an enraged animal-thing, but it would most definitely confuse it for a moment or two.

As he’d hoped, that was all that Bunny had needed. The _vargr_ let up on the pressure as it gave in to a full-body shiver, giving the Pooka ample time to find leverage and kick.  The _vargr_ went flying, landing in a heap right next to the other one.

“Get back,” Jack snapped, moving in towards the two stunned beasts. He imagined it was a sign of how much Bunny hated canines that he actually listened, moving to the side of the clearing until he had a solid tree trunk at his back.

That was fine. Good, even. Jack didn’t necessarily want to kill the _vargr_ , so long as they left quickly. Of course, if they kept attacking…

_Chances of them running away… less than one percent, I’d bet._

The larger one regained its feet first, shaking its head to clear it of the fuzziness it undoubtedly had from the hard landing.  It looked between Jack and Bunny for a moment, before settling on Jack as the more dangerous opponent and charging.

Did these creatures not know any other methods besides a full frontal assault?

Jack swept the crook of his staff in a short arc over the ground in front of him. Snow humped up into a mound, and shot forwards. It didn’t do much damage when it hit, but the _vargr_ was momentarily blinded by the snow in its eyes. Jack stepped to the side, and brought his armored fist down on the _vargr’s_ nose.

It was like old fashioned handcuffs, in a way. Put ten pounds of iron - or enchanted ice - on someone’s wrists, left said wrists in front of them, you didn’t have a prisoner. You had a man with a _hammer_.

The _vargr_ dropped like a stone, letting out a short yip of pain before the pain from the blow knocked it unconscious. If he’d learned one thing from the training manual about these creatures, it was just how sensitive their noses really were.

As he turned his attention to the other one, he discovered it already leaping over it’s fallen comrade, intent on taking him in the throat.

_That_ wasn’t going to happen.

Jack used his second of warning to will a sharp spike of ice into being, upwards from the top of his left greave, even as he crouched and leapt to meet the oncoming _vargr’s_ own high jump.

The _vargr_ went to snape at his face right as he grabbed it by the ears and tugged downward and brought the spike of ice up through the creature’s throat. It didn’t even get to cry out in pain before it’s larynx was shredded. The spike snapped off his greave, which was really for the best, all things considered.

Jack let the _vargr_ fall, not even trying to hold on, and staggered back a few steps. His staff was right where he’d dropped it, but he figured bending over to pick it up wasn’t the best idea in the world right now. Adrenaline gone, reaction setting in, all that jazz.

Plus, now that he thought about it, his leg _really_ hurt.

“Well,” he said, and looked down at his hands. They were shaking, oscillating in inches. “That was fun.”

Bunny was silent long enough that Jack felt the need to check on him - but he needn’t have worried. The Pooka was simply staring at him in surprise.

“Bunny?” Jack asked, and tried stepping forward. He discovered a limp, but nothing seemed to be broken. Or bleeding. Just bruised. Bruised wasn’t so bad.

He took another step.  Ow.  Okay, maybe heavily bruised was a _little_ bad.

Bunny finally shook himself from his stupor, blinking rapidly. “I, uh… right.  I’ve not seen anyone fight quite like that before.” He noticed Jack’s limp and moved forward to help support his weight. “You alright there mate?”

Jack shoved down his automatic reaction - he was _not_ going to grin like a goofy idiot, or pout that Bunny didn’t mean that one word the way Jack wished he did - and shrugged. That hurt too. “Bruised, not broken. You look worse than me. I… Wind!”

The Wind swirled around them, and when Jack squinted, he was just able to see hints of ruffled feathers and what might have been the corner of one, worried eye. Maybe.

“Wind, go tell Father Frost we could use a pickup or a portal, whatever, I don’t care.”

“Can’t you just call them on that ear comm of yours?”

“Don’t have it with me,” Jack said. “Took off like a bat outta hell, forgot it. Maybe put a hole in the wall too, I don’t know.”

“Where were you, anyway? I half-expected you to show up the moment I caught sight of those -” Bunny didn't finish his sentence, instead opting to growl at the bodies behind them.

Jack sighed, and eyed his staff again. Nope, not just yet. If he tried to pick it up, he’d pitch over into the snow. “It’s… it’s my half-day,” he explained. “Basically, it’s… what, six hours? Seven? Whatever, it’s the one day of the month I’m not supposed to be on the job. No paperwork, no stalking…” He shrugged.

Bunny shot Jack a startled look, that quickly morphed into one with a hint of guilt. “Oh. Uh, sorry mate.”

Jack waved one hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. Not the first time, nor the last. Guess you could say I’m used to it.”

The Pooka guided Jack over to a nearby rock, one large enough for them both to sit on, if a tad close. Jack was _not_ going to complain about that.

Once Jack was settled, Bunny went and picked up his staff and brought it over, settling down next to Jack to help keep himself upright as much as Jack. The blood loss was starting to show in his shaky movements.

They sat there for no more than perhaps five minutes, by Jack’s estimation, before a faint rumbling sound caused Jack’s head to snap up.

“Brace yourself.”

“What - whoa!”

The ground shuddered violently for a long moment, before all was quiet again, save the faint echoing rumble in the distance.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Just the Fortress.  Come on, it’s this way.”

Jack used his staff as a crutch to walk east out of the clearing.  He made it all of one hundred feet before he found fallen trees and a wide, brand new field. In it, sat the Fortress.

“How the - I thought this place was in Greenland!” Bunny exclaimed, bewildered, as he came to a stop next to Jack.

Jack smirked. “It was. C’mon, you can learn the secret. And get that shoulder checked out.”

Bunny followed after him, looking confused. Well, that was just fine. And for once, Jack rather appreciated the fuss everyone made over him. He didn’t have to wait for the doors to open or anything; people scrambled to get obstacles out of his way.

“Observation deck would be best,” Jack said, and pointed up towards the central tower. “Old Man Gramps doesn’t mind if I skip up there. Think your stomach can handle it?”

Bunny shot him a confused look, but dutifully followed Jack as he climbed the stairs, albeit slowly. When they reached the Observation deck overlooking the landing field, Jack felt the first tiny shudders in the floor. 

_Already?_

Bunny paused behind him. “What was that?”

Jack smirked at him. “We’re just… moving. Back to Greenland, probably.”

Bunny eyed him like he was crazy. “Does it teleport?”

Jack’s smirk got wider as he replied brightly, “Nope!”

The shudders got stronger, until the whole Fortress seemed ready to shake apart. Bunny dashed to the window.

“The hell - oh, this is much worse!”

Figured. Bunny didn’t like flying. Jack stifled an inappropriate giggle. Jack watched as the Pooka’s expression flit through several different emotions while he gazed out the window, before finally settling on barely contained dread, as the Fortress gained altitude and began it’s slow process of acceleration. He abruptly spun in place, panting lightly.

“I don’t like it. Can we go somewhere without so many _windows?”_

“The Fortress is safe in the air,” Jack said. “Come, through here is the Control Center. You’ll see.”

Bunny grumbled, “Well, at least it’s _enclosed_. Ruddy sleigh.”

They stepped into controlled chaos. At least, that’s what Jack always thought it seemed like, with two dozen - baker’s dozen, no less - agents fussing at screens and making reports into headsets. He heard something about ‘integrity’ and another something about the shielding that made the Fortress invisible from the underside, so no one saw a giant, flying glacier-castle overhead. The low susurrus was almost soothing, in its consistency.

Jack watched as Bunny took this all in, before the Pooka turned and met his gaze. “Well. Can’t say that you lot aren’t organized, that’s for sure.”

“Let me guess,” Jack said, daring a bit. “If only we didn’t fly?” He moved over to the - well, he’d always called it the ‘captain’s wheel’, as it was where Odin spent most of his time. Several screens, bespelled to show information on the Fortress’ location and physical status, were at the perfect height for the former god to look at them comfortably.

Jack might have covered the screens with a few dozen layers of plastic wrap and pink paint, once upon a time, without getting caught. By the minion-agents.

_Huh_ , Jack mused as he read the screens. _Western Canada now? Must have moved the operational focus again; should check my reports later._

“Hey, Bunny. How do you feel about maple syrup?”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Wednesday, 2 May 2012 -- Warren, afternoon**

_Couldn’t he bring a book over or something_? Aster sat on a rock, one actually meant to work as a seat, and watched Jack from the corner of his eye. Pooka’s peripheral vision was better than a human’s, and even if Jack knew better, he’d still judge Aster’s sightline’s by his own. Humans did that. It was why he always got to overhear a lot of comments people made about him, that were supposed to be private.

_Heh. If they knew how good my hearing was, they’d never say anything about me ever again._

Not that it’d be a bad thing. And not that he’d really been sociable enough to talk with people, let alone overhear anything.

He put down the egg he’d been practicing on, and stretched his back out. “Hey, Jack! Get over here. Want ta talk to you.”

Jack looked up, startled, a hint of a smile flashing across his face before he replied, “Sure! Whatcha want to talk about?”

Jack moved over and settled closer to him, reclining against another rock a few feet away, covered heavily enough in moss that - Aster knew - made it actually rather comfy as a backrest.

“About the attacks,” Aster said, looking away. “Is… that can’t be normal, can it? All of them?”

“Well,” Jack started, pausing as if in thought. “Recently? No, it’s been busier; probably because of that whole thing with Pitch. But, overall? This is pretty normal, on average.”

“Normal?” Aster’s mouth opened, though his jaw didn’t actually drop. “All those… but that’s crazy!”

“We’ve usually been much better about hiding it from you, since we wanted to keep you in the dark, but… I don’t see any reason to hide it anymore. Makes the job easier, for one - I don’t have to spend half my time distracting you while my minions clean up the mess.”

Aster grunted, and folded his arms. “How many?”

“How many…? Like, this month? Total?”

“Attacks’ve you stopped, since joining up with WINTER. And… when? Against what?”

“Oh, uh… one sec.” Jack tapped his hidden earbud and whispered a request for the data. A mild look of surprise flit across his face when the answer presumably came back. “Huh. I hadn’t thought it was _that_ many. Guess I lost count. As of the attack last week, eight hundred and fourteen. Not including my first time, since I wasn’t part of WINTER then.”

“First time?” Aster tilted his head to the side, resolutely ignoring the supposed number of attacks he’d missed noticing.

Eight _hundred_ and fourteen. How the bloody, buggering hell had he missed _eight hundred_ attacks?

Jack glanced down and scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah, um. That was a complete accident, really. I was, um, I was puttering around Pompeii, back in 1748, right after they’d discovered the ruins, trying to find the guy in charge of the dig so I could listen in on what he had to say.”

Right, right, he recalled that. Vaguely at first, but then again he hadn’t been paying much attention to the archeology. “Bunch of satyrs kidnapping women. A bad lot, them. I tracked them down…” He trailed off. From what little _he_ remembered, he’d managed to rescue the women, and then things got fuzzy. He’d woken up in his Warren with a headache, but nothing worse.

“Yeah! You got the women out of their cages; I herded them, as best I could since, you know, _invisible,_ to the work camp, before flying back up to the satyr’s encampment. I saw you go down right as I returned. The - the incense, or whatever it was, they were using to pacify the women? They hit you with a _really_ strong dose.”

That’d explain his lack of memory. He’d always figured, when he dared think about it, that the incense had… not knocked him out, exactly, and…

Well, Pooka were shapeshifters. And some of the things he could turn into… chocolate wasn’t the only thing that could set him off.

He didn’t exactly like thinking about it.

“Go on,” he said, pretending his fur wasn’t standing on end. 

“Well, see. I, uh… you were the first spirit I’d seen in ages that looked at least halfway approachable - not liable to either attack me or fuck me - and, well… I didn’t like how the satyrs were looking at you. So I… stopped them.”

Aster shoved down his first, second, and third reactions. On the one hand, he was rather relieved, actually, that he hadn’t had an episode involving six arms and bloodlust. On the other, he didn’t like the implication about the satyrs - he knew what they’d been kidnapping women for, and he also knew most of the rumors about his biology - and on a third hand, he was pretty sure he didn’t like what Jack had just implied about his own circumstances. “No,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t have attacked you.” Or the other…

“So,” he said, and cleared his throat. “You stopped them?”

“Yeah. Wind and I. She blew out their fire for me, and brought in fresh air. I used the sudden darkness to my advantage, freezing some in place, and trapping others in the cages. Knocked a few out too. Anyway, it only took a couple minutes. I sat with you while you recovered, and then Kern showed up.”

Aster nodded. “Guess I have him to blame for waking up in my own nest, huh?” Jack nodded. “Did you join WINTER… how’d that work, anyways?”

“Well, Kern and I met over your semi-conscious body, actually. He took me to the Fortress, after - it was still under construction then - and Odin and I had a long chat. He offered me the job of watching you, after explaining how important you are. I accepted. Little bit of training, to get my skills up to snuff, and that was that. Turns out, I’ve been the most successful Guard you’ve ever had. Kern was in charge of you, before I took over. He helped me a lot, in the early years.”

“I just bet he did,” Aster grumbled. Jack blinked at him, confusion obvious. “Never mind. So… you’ve been, what, watching me for two… two centuries now?”

“Two hundred, sixty-three years, five months, two days, to be exact.”

Jack was three hundred years old, as a spirit. He set that aside to think on later. “Why do they attack me?” he asked, instead. “I- they have to know. Maybe not the animal spirits, but the others…”

“Odin’s not _entirely_ sure, but it has to do with you being the Guardian of Life. Hope too, but mostly Life. Crazy, I know, but some creatures have a death wish. Others just don’t know, or want to capture you - for study, we think, or… ‘other’ things.”

Aster grimaced. “Well… rather not end up a science experiment or anything, so… thanks.”

Jack shot him a look of complete surprise. Was that a faint blush…?

“I, uh… you’re welcome.”

“Ya don’t have to sound so shocked, y’ gumby. I can be reasonable.”

Jack favored him with a bright, happy smile, even though a thin layer of frost still colored his cheeks, and nodded.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Wednesday, 2 May 2012 -- Warren, nigh unto midnight**

Aster rolled over for the fifth time in as many minutes, and grunted. Still not comfortable. Stupid brain wouldn’t stop running in circles, from attacks to WINTER to Jack back to the attacks to…

He grunted, and rolled over again. If he wasn’t thinking about the number of attacks - _eight hundred and fourteen_ , really? - he was instead wondering why he hadn’t noticed any of them. And when he wasn’t thinking about that, he was thinking about Jack, who couldn’t have been more than fifty years or so when he’d first taken on those satyrs - which just led his thoughts down the trail of ‘ _what if Jack hadn’t been there and they_ had-’; he kept imagining one horrific scenario after another, even though he _knew_ nothing had happened. Jack and the WINTER agents had prevented it.

Which just led him right back to the question of Jack’s age, and the number of attacks he’d never picked up on.

And the question of whether or not it was possible for him to have children. Although that one wasn’t a new question, really. It’d been in the back of his mind, off and on, since he’d met the first spirit native to Earth, and realized humans weren’t monkeys climbing out of trees anymore.

Not that it mattered. Even if he could, which was doubtful, it wasn’t like there was anyone he would…

Anyways.

Jack had spent most of his life stalking - no, _guarding_ ; was only fair, after all that had happened, that he acknowledge the truth of it - Aster’s oblivious behind.

And what had he done in return? Yelled, mostly. Called him names a whole bunch of times. That wasn’t exactly fair, or nice. Whatever North’s lists said, Jack wasn’t a child, but he was young enough that…. Damn it, Aster was old enough to _know_ better. Even if Jack hadn’t been a member of WINTER, even if he hadn’t been… hiding the attacks or covering up for his minions to clean up, or whatever, Aster still hadn’t had the right to yell at him like that. He had been able to tell right off that Jack was young and - and you just didn’t do that with younglings. Human, Pooka, spirit - _you didn’t_.

His stomach churned, and he rolled over again. He wrenched his mind off Jack’s youth and Aster’s treatment of him. After all, he couldn’t do anything about the past, he could only affect the present. He’d just have to be nicer to Jack, give him the benefit of the doubt more. Wasn’t like there was anything else he _could_ do, anyways.

He shivered, and curled up. Well, fine, now that he’d settled _that_ bit mentally, his stupid brain decided to go back to horror scenarios. It’d made him a good tactician during war, being able to imagine all the potential ways for things going wrong, but it wasn’t so helpful right now.

Earth was supposed to be _safe!_

It wasn’t.

“Bah,” he grunted, and sat up. Maybe a glass of warm milk would help him settle down. And if not, well… no one said he had to sleep every night. He could catch up on some reading, maybe.

Turn on a few lights.

Yeah, that sounded good. He’d turn on the lights, get himself that glass of milk, and go over one of his favorite books. Been a while since he’d taken the time to read more than paint colors. Be nice to take a break.

He found Jack asleep in the sitting room, on one of his couches.

The sprite looked a bit chilly, more so than just his usual nature, so he snagged a nearby blanket and covered him, before he quietly got his drink. He watched the teen sleep for a moment longer, before he turned and entered his library.

The chairs were more comfortable in there anyway.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Friday, 4 May 2012 -- Warren, midday**

“Hey, Frostbite.” Jack grinned privately to himself. One day he’d have to tell Bunny just how many people would run away if they heard that nickname. “Feel up to some grub?”

He looked over, and down, at the Pooka from his perch in the tree. “An actual grub?” he asked, doubtfully. 

Bunny stared at him, and deadpanned, “They’re a delicacy, mate.” Jack snickered. “No, you galah, I was thinking egg salad. Although if you want actual insects…”

Jack laughed as he hopped down out of the tree. “No, salad sounds good.”

“Good, it’s made already.” Bunny turned and headed back for his burrow, not looking to see if Jack was following. Which of course Jack was; free food! Who’d turn that down? And, when he got a plate of egg salad and took the first bite, he realized it was even _good_ food. He hummed in appreciation, and took a second, larger bite.

“Don’t look so shocked, mate. I can cook, you know,” Bunny deadpanned, a faint smile gracing his lips. Seemed to be his favored form of humor.

Jack liked that.

“But not clean. I’ve read up on rabbits.” Jack pointed his fork at the Pooka. “Female rabbits keep the burrow neat and tidy, males laze about. And unless you’re a cross dresser, bun-bun…”

“Oi! I do too -” Bunny paused, mid-shout and blinked. “Oh, _fine_. Yeah, you got me. _But don’t call me that!_ ”

“Cottontail? Longears? ‘Roo? Kanga-man? Skippy the Bush Kangaroo?” Jack’s grin widened, before he added, tone light and innocent, “Easter _Bilby_?”

“Thin ice, drongo,” Bunny said, not sounding as angry as Jack had half-expected. “An’ the Easter Bilby thing’s never quite caught on. Dunno why, not like anyone in Oz is over fond of rabbits.”

“It’s not a question of wild rabbits, hippity-hop.” Bunny rolled his eyes. “Wild rabbits don’t lay nummy chocolate eggs.”

The Pooka just shook his head and went back to eating for a few minutes. When his plate was clear, he glanced up at Jack, before his eyes slid to the side and he cleared his throat.

“So. I have more questions for ya, if I may?” he asked hesitantly.

“Sure, go ahead. I’ve got nothing to hide.” Well, mostly nothing. “What do you want to know?”

“This ‘WINTER’ organization you work for… how is it that you’re one of the Regents? For that matter, how’s the thing even work?”

Jack spun his fork around his fingers while he organized his thoughts. “Being a Regent… It’s two parts power, three parts who you’re guarding. Or maybe three parts power and… anyways. Thor, he’s right up there in power, so’s Loki, but they don’t guard _anyone_.” He paused, and giggled, almost hysterically. “They tried, or Odin tried to make them, but, uh… _anyways_ , moving on. Odin guards Manny, General Winter guards… Father Time, I think you know him?” Bunny nodded. “And the Snow Queen guards Mother Nature, who actually keeps her real body, however that works, in WINTER HQ. I don’t get it, I don’t want to get it…”

“Omnipresence, mate. Even the humans don’t quite get it, and they say their God is like that.”

He cleared his throat, and also took a few bites of his egg salad. “So, I guard you, and… rehashing aside, if you go, the demons get a sunny hell-world to live in, y’know? And I’m also young, but powerful, so I’m a Regent. Don’t ask me why I get a fancy chair, though. I think Weyland’s apprentice was really bored when he was told to make it.”

Bunny snorted, but motioned for Jack to continue.

“As for how WINTER works… it’s changed, over the years.” He looked down at his plate, and chased the last few bites of salad around with his fork. “Used to be, we were an army. Things were more straightforward, I guess. But then humans started to change, their wars had carry over effects on our stuff, and suddenly we had recruitment drives and intelligence officers and _paperwork_.” He wrinkled his nose.

The Pooka chuckled at his expression.

“Anyways, WINTER works because we’re all gathered together for a common goal - keeping the world spinning. Odin’s got a great speech, I forgot most of it five minutes after he made it the first time, but what was important stuck with me.”

“What was that?”

“You,” Jack said blithely, before registering how that sounded and adding, “At least as far as I was concerned.”

_Way to put your foot in your mouth, dummy,_ he chastised himself mentally.

“Keeping you safe and alive is my job. If I fail, everyone’s going to hurt. Everyone I’m friends with, everyone I’m enemies with, everyone I’ve never met. You’re pretty important, Kangaroo.”

Bunny was gazing at him a bit wide-eyed, but still replied, voice strained just a bit, “Yeah, well. Uh, right.” He cast his gaze about the room for a moment. “So! You talk about your ‘minions’ all the time. What’s with that?”

Jack chuckled, and leaned forward. He quickly ran over the ranking system again, from Regents to Shepherds - the irony of the former shepherd boy _not_ being a shepherd hadn’t escaped him - and added, “I got the idea when I watched the first James Bond movie. That was fun. And then it stuck.”

“James Bond?”

“You don’t know who James Bond is?” Jack shook his head. “Wow. Just… wow. There’s books… Um, the movies are what I know best, though.”

“I don’t usually go in for spy stuff. And I’ve yet to try to make a telly work down here. Never had any interest.”

“Huh. Weyland goes nuts for that stuff, we’ve had a full, surround sound, jumbotron-sized TV in HQ for ages. Odin uses it for briefings. Larger than life cranky man explaining everything we did wrong and what we’re going to do to fix it, voice booming from all corners… he doesn’t like when I throw popcorn at his screen-face, can’t imagine why. Anyways. James Bond’s pretty cool. Shaken, not stirred, girls throwing themselves at him, all that. He’s _the_ super-spy.”

Bunny gazed at Jack appraisingly for a few long moments, head tilted slightly. “You know… I’ve had some trouble keepin’ up with the ankle-biters talk now and again. Perhaps I should ask your friend Weyland about setting up a telly down here. Might do to catch up on things.”

“I can fill out a requisition form for you, if you want. And… security cameras in the tunnels, maybe? Motion activated? You’d be able to watch on the… telly?”

“Sure, I can give it a burl.”

Jack eyed him sidelong, before shrugging. “Weyland’s going to go nuts,” he said, and finished up his food. “Hey, if you want, I can do the dishes.”

He quirked an eyebrow questioningly, but nodded with a wave towards the sink.

Jack smiled, and busied himself with the water and dishes. He was aware of Bunny moving about behind him, but didn’t pay much attention.

“Where the bloody hell did I put the tea bags…?” he muttered after a few minutes.

“Cellar, to the left, fifth shelf up behind the… looks like a turnip’s mutated cousin and his inbred family?”

Bunny was suspiciously silent behind him. Jack turned to look after a few moments, only to find the Pooka staring at him in mild shock.

“What?” Jack asked after a few more uncomfortable moments.

That snapped him out of it. He shook his head and muttered as he wandered off down into the cellar, “Nothing. Right, so behind the radishes….”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Tuesday, 8 May 2012 -- Watendlath Tarn, Cumbria, England, early evening**

“Hey, Frostbite, can I have a word -”

_Splash_.

“Well, that was unexp-”

“Bunny, help!” Jack shouted, before he slipped under.

He swore as he dove into the water. Ice cold and dark, and the cold started sapping his strength right away. The tarn was deeper than he’d expected, and Jack had sunk faster.

Probably because, unlike stories and human movies, humans didn’t flail their arms over their head when drowning. No, they kept their arms close to their bodies as they tried to swim and couldn’t.

Aster clenched his teeth against the cold, and the ache in his lungs, and stroked downwards. Pooka were dense, and sunk naturally, but he had to sink faster than normal.

There! Jack! Still clawing awkwardly at the water, eyes wide open and panicked. Aster caught him by the hood of his sweater, and switched from swimming downwards to swimming up.

Which was harder. Oh, so much harder.

Now he had to fight his body’s natural density, the water’s drag, the cold making his strokes clumsy and weak. He had to struggle with one hand useless, since he wasn’t about to let go of Jack.

His lungs screamed. His arms and legs ached. The cold hurt down to his bones, to the point where he didn’t even want to shiver anymore.

And the surface never seemed to get any closer.

Then, abruptly, it did. Aster broke the surface sooner than he’d expected, and gasped for a quick breath, before pulling and twisting until he was on his back and Jack’s face was up out of the water. He kicked and did the backstroke, and somehow kept from swimming backwards in circles. Mud had never felt so good.

Aster coughed up half a lungful of water, and sneezed. “Jack?” he rasped. “Jackie?”

Jack rolled over and vomited up way more water than Aster had expected that small body to be able to contain, but at least he was breathing.

“Jack?” he asked again, after the sprite stopped expelling liquids.

“Uuunnn.”

_Well, I guess that counts as a reply._

“What was that all about?” Aster flopped onto his back and took several deep breaths. When no answer was forthcoming, he glanced over to find Jack staring at the ground sullenly. “Jackie?”

“I never learnt to swim,” Jack muttered, voice worse than Aster’s. Which, fair enough, he’d been vomiting his own weight in lakewater up. “I… I don’t _like_ the water.”

Okay. That was interesting. Questions later, though. They both needed to get somewhere warmer, and drier. Jack might not mind the cold, but _he_ did.

“Nothing for it then. C’mon. Let’s go back to the Warren.” Jack didn’t immediately move, so Aster reached down and helped him stand. The teen barely reacted as Aster guided him into the rabbit hole he opened a moment later.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Tuesday, 8 May 2012 -- Warren, evening**

In short order, he had them ensconced in his burrow and made up a batch of his favorite tea. He handed Jack a cup, who took it gratefully, peering out of his huddled pile of blankets. Aster sat next to him and took a long sip, before setting his cup down and turning slightly towards Jack.

“D’you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Jack was silent for so long, that he decided he wasn’t going to get an answer, and turned back to his tea.

“I drowned,” Jack whispered.

Aster paused mid-sip, with the hot liquid burning his tongue. He finally swallowed. “Ah. Do you, uh, want to talk about that? Or is it none of my business?”

Jack stared at his cup for a long moment. His gaze finally snapped up, staring at Aster through his bangs. He nodded.

“Guess my first question should be when,” Aster said, doing his best to sound gentle and like he had half an idea about what he was doing. He didn’t; comforting others wasn’t his strongest suit. “Was it…. You were with WINTER, right?”

Jack shook his head sharply. “No, before - before I… my memories. Um, when I was human. I _died_.”

Aster sipped his tea to give himself time to think, and came up with nothing. “You died,” he repeated. And mentally flipped Manny the bird. _Really_? That was just two shades away from necromancy, he…

Jack hadn’t gone crazy or zombie-eats-people on anyone, so he supposed it worked out, and definitely not a werewolf or… they’d lucked out, clearly. None of the nasty curses that typically landed on people who’d died and come back had hit Jack. 

“How’d it happen?” he asked gently, reaching out tentatively to rest a paw on Jack’s shoulder. The sprite had never looked so young to him before that moment. Or so small.

“I was teaching my sister how to ice skate. Um, my laces broke. On my skates. So I took them off to see if I could fix them - we didn’t have the money for new laces, not until the first lambs were…” Jack hunched his shoulders. “The ice in the middle of the lake wasn’t as thick as I’d thought. It started to break under her weight.

“I saved her,” he said, brightening a little, before sobering again. “But the… it broke under me. I, um. I think I forgot because…. Drowning’s not fun, you know. Painful, actually. It… I…” He trailed off again, staring into his cup, and this time didn’t start up again.

Aster gently squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “It’s alright. I understand. When did you find out? When you were with Tooth the other day?”

Jack looked up, and frowned. “You understand? How could you… I _drowned_. Unless you’re secretly a ghost or something, I don’t think you do.”

Aster shifted uncomfortably and glanced to the side. “I was clinically dead for about two minutes during the last Fearling War. The docs brought me back.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Aster glanced back at Jack.

Jack bit his lower lip. “Uh…. I, um, no, I found out… Easter. After I… when Pitch threw me into the glacial crevasse-”

“Wait, _what_?”

Jack frowned at him. “I told you - well, okay, I told the medics, just after… Pitch cracked my ribs. When I slammed into the cliffside. Or when I fell to the bottom of the crevasse, he’d broken my staff and the Wind couldn’t catch me down there…. Should you be making that snorting sound?”

Aster swallowed down his next enraged grunt, and shrugged one shoulder. “You didn’t tell us in so much detail. Why’d he go to the trouble of attacking you anyway? I mean, you said he showed up in Antarctica, threatened Baby Tooth, and then hurt you… but why? You were out of the picture, as much as it pains me to say it, since that was partly my fault.”

Jack blinked at him. “Huh? Uh, I mean… I mean…. Okay.” It was hard to tell with all the blankets, but Jack seemed to straighten his shoulders. “He wanted me to join him. I… he’d told me before letting me out of his lair that the Guardians would never accept me, and then… Easter… kind of happened. And then when I ended up in Antarctica, he tried manipulating me - you know, the ‘we’re both alone and hated and we both want families, so why don’t you join me for some mayhem and terrorizing civilizations’ type spiel. I saw through it, told him no, and that’s when he traded my staff for Baby Tooth and tossed me in the crevasse.” 

It was Aster’s turn to blink at Jack. “I…” Huh. What _did_ you say to that?

Jack looked away. “Took a few hours before Baby Tooth got me to do anything but stare at my hands. She got me to look at my toothbox. I saw a few things, but they were real quick, until the last memory.” He shuddered. “How’d Tooth manage to get my… I’d lost all my baby teeth at that point.”

“Magic,” Aster explained. “The teeth store the memories, true, but they’re connected to you too. Like what Pitch did with the teeth, but much more benign. Like… like those little recording devices the humans have - what do they call them again? Cam-something or other?”

“Cameras these days, they used to be camcorders.” Jack grinned weakly. “Guess that makes sense. Can’t remind someone of their… oh, first kiss or prom or whatever if you don’t have the memories stored away.” He looked down again. “So I saw… focused on how I’d rescued my sister. Fixed my staff, and ended up…” He gestured. “Well, you know.”

Aster nodded. “I never did thank you properly for coming back. That isn’t right. So… thank you. For being there.”

Jack ducked his head, and hid his expression with the mug of tea. “You’re my Charge,” he said, finally. “Rescuing your furry behind is kind of my job.”

“I’d still been a right arse. You’d have been well within your rights to forget about me.”

Jack shook his head in the negative, and seemed to blush. “Anyways. That’s why I don’t like water. I mean, I never liked it before, but I didn’t mind it if there was a layer of ice between me and _wet_. Only now I can’t stand that. Just because I can walk on a layer of frost, I… thin ice makes me… nervous.”

Aster nodded his understanding. “Maybe we can work on that sometime? If… if you want to?”

“I don’t _ever_ want to drown again. Kern’s tried to teach me, or he insisted, anyways. Stopped when I threatened to slam a desk drawer shut on his…” Jack trailed off and smirked. “He shut up about it quite abruptly; it was kind of funny.”

Aster snorted. “Well, way back when I was… well, closer to your age, I think, I had a brother who was deathly afraid of water. I learned a few tricks from my mum - she got him swimming. But I won’t push it. Just remember the offer’s always open.”

“I’ll think about it. And if I ever do take you up on the offer, I guess you’ll have to find somewhere ice-proof for the lessons. I might…” Jack smiled wanly. “I might panic. A little.”

“A lot. I know.” Aster smiled, properly, encouragingly. He turned to his tea.

“Bunny?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "So yes, it's about time Bunny's started thinking Jack's actually on to something with the whole protecting thing. No worries, he'll be badass equals with Jack in a few, but he's got to get in the swing of things again. (Bunny would like to point out that, to his knowledge, he'd been RETIRED all those years...)"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "This chapter was great fun to write! All the fighting... and the revelations! Weee!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Saturday, 12 May 2012 -- The Fortress, Mount Kailash, Transhimalayan range, Tibet, 3:54 pm local time**

He was starting to hate the Fortress’ canteen.

Mostly because every time he tried to find Jack’s office, he got lost and ended up right back where he started!

Aster grunted, and glowered at the ranks of tables, benches, and eating agents. The fifth time. _The fifth bloody time_! He was starting to regret not just staying in his nice, organized Warren, even if there was a bunch of construction (why had he agreed to Weyland installing a TV and camera-security system, again? Oh, right, _Jack_ ) and kitsune stalking him and setting off every instinct he had.

One of the raven agents looked up and cawed. “Back so soon?” she asked, grinning awkwardly with her beak.

Aster’s eye twitched. “Oh, rack off!”

He spun on the spot and ran right into Kern.

Ow. Bloke _was_ as hard as he looked.

“Oh, whoa. Hey, Bunny. What brings you here?” Kern asked politely as he steadied Aster with one hand.

“Weyland,” he snarled, manners exhausted and temper frayed. “Where’s Jack?”

“Oooh, installation day. Yeah, I’d have buggered out too. Here, follow me.  His office is hard to find for a reason.”

“And what reason would that be?” Driving everyone around him _insane_? Aster could well believe _that_. “And why are there so many fountains that don’t work?”

“Odin wanted fountains. Ergo, fountains. Weyland bitches about them all the time.” Kern flashed him a smirk. “Jack’s office is hidden away in the deepest recesses of HQ so that the junior agents don’t bother him much. They like to gawk.”

Aster grunted, instead of dignifying the comment with a reply. Instead, he gestured towards the hallway.

Kern’s smirk just broadened, and he led Aster in the opposite direction he’d been told to take. Or maybe he’d been supposed to head west after the third fountain, or… no, that was where he was supposed to take the first right.

“So, who gave you directions? I heard you’d been wandering around for a while before I came to find you.”

“What, I’m supposed to know all these people now?” Aster glowered at Kern’s back. There was no justice in the world. Kern didn’t burst into fire. “First bloke had black hair and green eyes and looked human, but he could’ve been one of those blasted kitsune for all I know. Second had red hair and green eyes, and third was blond with green eyes.”

Kern was suppressing a giggle. Aster _knew it_. “Loki. That explains everything.”

Right. Next time he met Loki, Aster was going to teach him the meaning of Aussie slang, ‘to job’ specifically. A fist to the snout should teach him some manners.

When Kern led him through a multi-story gallery, he could have sworn he saw a green-eyed foal dash across the upper balcony. It glanced at Aster and neighed right before it went down a side hallway.

“The hell was that?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s a bloody foal doing running around in here?”

Kern was not-laughing at him again. His shoulders gave him away. Aster twitched.

“Green eyes?” Aster nodded. “Loki.”

Ruddy shapeshifters. Couldn’t stay in one blasted form for more than a few minutes. _Least I have manners, don’t shift without warning, haven’t shifted in ages anyways…_

Did a Regent outrank Loki? Jack would be the one to complain to, he was sure.

“Ah, here we go. Just down this hallway, and it’s the last door on your left,” Kern said, gesturing to the side.

Aster muttered something that sounded like “Thanks” and padded down the indicated hallway. Kern just shook his head _fondly_ , of all things, and wandered off to do - whatever it was he did, when he wasn’t stalking Aster, or throwing paperwork at Jack.

Not that he’d witnessed that last yet, but Jack complained about it every time he returned to the Warren.

Last door on the… left. Aster squinted, tilted his head, and then knocked on the door. Politely. Really. Maybe his temper got the better of him for two or three thumps, but other than that…

“Come in,” Jack called, voice muffled slightly by the hardwood.

Aster eased the door open, because that was almost the direct opposite of what he really wanted to do - _kick it down_ \- and was rather grateful he’d been so cautious. There was hardly enough room to swing a cat in Jack’s office; really, it was more like a glorified storage closet than a place anyone could be expected to work. The desk alone took up half the space, and he imagined Jack only got to his chair by crawling over the top.

“Yes, it _was_ a storage closet before I claimed it. No, I’m not reading your mind; _everyone_ thinks that at first,” Jack said as he looked up from his paperwork. “Oh! Bunny, I didn’t expect to see you here.  What’s up?”

“My temper,” Aster admitted, and eyed the visitor’s chair. He’d seen sturdier grass huts. “Weyland’s doing his… thing…. And those kitsune! Make ‘em stop with the stalking!”

Jack tilted his head. “It’s their job, Bunny. I know we’ve talked about this before.”

“Right, it’s the bloody job, fine - but do they have to be in fox shape?” He was whining. El-Ahrairah, he was whining like a kitten.

Jack visibly suppressed a giggle. What, was his face _purple_ today?

“Instincts getting to you? I thought you’d said something about plant monsters back where you came from, not foxes.”

“Mammalian predators have a lot of similarities throughout the cosmos,” Aster said, trying for dignified. Which lasted all up until he started whining again. “If they have to follow me, can’t they be human shaped for it? They keep staring at me and licking their muzzles!”

Jack sputtered and started laughing. It was _not_ infectious at all, not in the least-

Jack fell out of his chair and a heavy-looking stack of papers fell on him.

Okay, maybe it was a _little_ funny.

“Are y’ hurt?” Aster considered moving - but there was another stack of papers threatening to go if he did.

Jack continued giggling uncontrollably under the paperwork.

“Oh no, he’s dead.” He slouched down in the chair, and smirked. “Taken out by paperwork. So dignified.”

Jack’s head popped up out of the paperwork like a startled meerkat. “A _joke_? Bunny, a _joke_? Will wonders never cease!”

“Bastard.”

“Nope!” Jack replied brightly as he stood and began shuffling the paperwork back into a semblance of order. “My parents were married when I was born.”

His sidelong glance and cheeky smirk were actually kind of adorable. Like a puppy.

“You know what I meant.” Aster scowled at him. “Oh. Yeah. Loki.”

“What about my _dear,_ dear friend slash irritation?"

Aster folded his arms and glowered at the paperwork. Pity he couldn’t set things on fire with his mind; a raging inferno would’ve been really nice right about now. “Got me lost roughly half a dozen times, is what.”

Jack, having finally sorted out the paperwork to his apparent satisfaction, righted his chair and settled back down, leaning back and propping his bare feet up on the pile he’d just arranged.

“Ah, let me guess. Black hair, red hair, blond hair. All with green eyes? It’s one of his favorite tricks to play on newbies.”

“I’m not a member!” Aster paused, and added, “and don’t forget the horse foal.”

Jack chuckled. “He showed you his foal too? He must be fond of you.”

Nope, Jack didn’t burst into flames, either. “Fond? You got a couple ‘roos loose in the top paddock there, Frostbite? Any more fond and I’m breaking his nose.”

Jack gave him a funny look at the slang, before shaking his head fondly. “Fond, yes. If he _didn’t_ like you, you’d have somehow found your way into Weyland’s smithy. Or the cesspit trapdoor.”

Ugh, no. “I’m not leaving your office,” he decided. “Kitsune with teeth and Norse Gods with delusions of grandeur and horrible directions… and Weyland putting cameras in my tunnels of all the bloody things.”

Jack perked up at that. “Oh, _today_ is his day to play ‘Cable Guy’? Cool. I wonder when the TV will be ready….” Jack abruptly stood and half-crawled, half-floated around and over several stacks of papers, before he started digging. “I know I put that somewhere….”

“Put what- Jack.” he scowled. “Jack, being confusing means I’m _more_ likely ta feed you your own feet, not less.”

“Just a minute. I know its here somewhere.”

Aster rolled his eyes, and looked around the tiny room while Jack did whatever he was doing. Really tiny, he decided. Small enough that even he, member of a species more comfortable burrowing through the dirt than wandering around on the surface, felt a touch of claustrophobia. The walls were dingy, the ceiling was water stained, and most of that wasn’t even visible because of the piles of paper and bankers boxes - presumably full of more paper - stacked almost to the ceiling. How could Jack stand being in here?

And… He sniffed carefully, and wrinkled his nose. Old, very old, but shag carpet was good for holding onto scents. Like sex. Someone had used this place for recreational purposes, though the faintness of the scent meant it’d been decades.

He wondered if Jack knew.

“Aha!” Jack appeared from behind a giant pile of books, grin triumphant. He was holding a large black… cloth binder?

“Baby pictures?” Aster guessed.

Jack shook his head as he said, “Catch!”

And then tossed it at him. Aster almost fumbled it, but managed it well enough. Wrong shape. Not used to _square_ things flying at him to catch. Triangles were better. He opened it, unzipping around the sides. Inside were...

“What are these shiny round disk things?”

“DVDs,” Jack said. “Some real good ones. James Bond, Ocean’s Eleven, that sort of thing. Spy movies. Figured since you know nothing of pop culture - oh, and Star Wars, too, the original three, because I bet you don’t know anything about that, either. Which is just criminal.”

Aster blinked and glanced back down at the ‘DVDs’. He carefully extracted one from it’s plastic pouch and examined it in the light. It glimmered rainbow, almost like oil.

Oh.

“Ah, I see. Data storage medium. I hadn’t realized humans had progressed this far. What’s the capacity these days?”

“Um… something like five or ten gigabytes, I think. At least, for those. There are ‘denser’ - I think that’s the right word? - versions that hold more. And there’s another format, Blu-ray, that holds twenty-five or fifty, depending.”

Aster hummed thoughtfully as he put the disk away. “Interesting. Still nothing like back home. But progress.”

At least it’d been long enough that he didn’t feel that reflexive ache when talking about his lost home. Lost people were another story, so he refused to think about… any of that.

“Back home? You - Pooka had digital media too?”

“Kind of,” Aster replied as he zipped the binder closed. “Hard to compare, really. We used little egg-shaped devices for storage. They held… what’s the right human metric prefix… ah, right, several yottabytes. If I remember correctly. I’m sure I still have the designs somewhere in storage.”

“Y-yeah,” Jack said, blinking several times. “Maybe hold onto those? Could be useful in coming decades. Anyways, I, uh, I figured we - you - we, maybe? - could break in that new TV you’re getting. See a little Vader, a little Bond, a few heist movies…”

Jack was getting flustered. It was plain to see. Did it mean that much to him? Well, it wasn’t like he had anything better to use the telly for. “Sure, mate.”

The winter spirit just lit up, like Aster had given him the greatest prize imaginable. “Really? Great! Um, Weyland should probably be a few hours more, ‘cause they’re hooking in the security system too. Maybe a tour, so you don’t get lost anymore?”

Aster mulled it over for only a moment. “Sure. Might be useful in case any wayward _Lokis_ get in my way again.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


The armory had been impressive enough, the artwork had been one beauty after another, the frozen fountains had switched from annoying to amusing - but the gymnasium was where WINTER’s HQ really shone. There were two levels, with the upper half consisting of a large balcony around all four sides of the room, big enough for a full track for runners to do their laps, while the lower half was clearly devoted to weights and sparring.

“Well,” Aster said, eyes wide as he tried to take in everything at once. “This is nice.”

“You think? I always thought it was a bit cramped in here. Otherwise, it’s got all the amenities one could ask for,” Jack replied, tone distracted as his gaze fell on a pair of kitsune sparring.

Cramped? Never mind. “Nah, it’s good. Come here often?” he asked, and realized only _after_ the words left his mouth that he’d just used a horribly cheesy pickup line on _Jack_.

Jack glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a faint smirk gracing his features. Oh, he’d _heard_ all right.

“Not as much as I used to. When Kern and I - well, before. I mean, before about a decade or two back, we came here pretty often.”

Aster narrowed his eyes, but didn’t ask. “Guess this is where you learnt how to fight, then.”

Jack nodded. “Yup. I mean, I knew some basics - I’d wandered over to Japan and watched for a while, now and again, during practices in the open - but this is where Kern, Loki, Thor, and even the other Regents trained me.”

Aster glanced at Jack’s staff, held loosely in the sprite’s grip and then noticed the rack of staves just beyond the boy. _That’s a thought._

“Sounds like a right mashup of styles,” Aster said, feeling an old, familiar itch in his shoulders. “Wanna have a go?”

Jack blinked at him. “A go?”

Aster stepped past him and picked out a staff. “Yes. ‘A go’, as in, _sparring_. I try to use something you _Americans_ should understand, and what do I get for my efforts? Kids these days.”

He smiled to take the bite out of his words.

Jack smiled back, but there was nothing gentle or forgiving about it. “Did you just call me a ‘kid’?” he asked, and gave his staff a lazy, one handed twirl. “Okay, _old man_ , you and me. Staffs, full contact but pulling the blows, first five falls loses.”

Aster’s smile turned into a smirk, and he moved over to the first empty ring he saw. He hopped in, and then turned and gestured at Jack, who nodded formally and joined him. Whispers immediately burst out in the balcony section; a set of doors banged shut abruptly. He ignored them.

Aster took a moment to stretch, twirling the staff to get a feel for its weight. Not exactly like his old staff, but pretty close. Probably should have snagged a Buddhist monk’s stave, but that’d have given his weapon an edge - not good for sparring. He took up a battle stance and waited.

He couldn’t have said which of them moved first; the instant he shifted his weight forward, Jack matched him. Quarterstaff met shepherd’s crook in three quick, testing blows. Then, ‘warm up’ dispensed with, they both got serious.

Jack preferred to keep up in the air, it seemed, while Aster planted his feet with every step, rooting himself to the floor beneath him for stability. He opted for a defensive stance to start, wanting to gauge Jack’s skills. Given that his style was both very fluid and very foreign - otherworldly, one might say - he expected to have that luxury.

It proved a false assumption.

If Aster hadn’t been just as fast as he bragged, Jack might’ve gotten him good. Had he remained in his defensive style, Jack would have readily tagged him out at least three times in the first half-minute. Instead, he opted to switch to a more aggressive stance, such that every time the winter spirit flipped and dodged and spun around to get at Aster’s back, the Pooka had already twisted around to meet him. Pooka had dealt with Fearlings and other creatures capable of flight for plenty long enough to design a fighting style just for them.

Shifting his stance minutely and taking a deep breath, he went on the offensive.

The quarterstaff turned into a silver-brown blur in his hands. Speed didn’t matter much; Jack moved less, but he met each testing blow with only enough effort and no more. Saving his strength? Smart, though it didn’t much matter, really; Aster had more endurance for a fight than any flyer, any day.

And then, when Jack had touched down for that brief second where he had to brace to land a blow, Aster swept one leg down low, knocking Jack’s feet out from under him. Gasps broke out from the balcony.

Aster snorted and glanced around. An audience? Interesting.

Jack landed with a grunt, turning his fall into a roll and springing back up on his feet. He paused to grin, saying, “That’s one.”

Aster smirked and set himself into a balanced stance, staff tucked into the crook of his arm and gestured with two fingers in a ‘come hither’ gesture.

Jack’s eyes lit up right before he pounced.

Literally pounced. Barreled right into Aster, planted one foot on each shoulder, then launched up into the air with all the strength in his scrawny legs.

Turned out, that was plenty. Aster staggered, then actually tripped over a slight irregularity in the mats and went down. Their audience cooed in delight.

He shook his head. “Nice moves there, Frostbite. Didn’t think ya had it in ya.” Aster rolled to the side and flipped back onto his feet. “Come on then. Show me what you’ve _really_ got.”

After several minutes of fighting, Aster had to admit, Jack was good. _Really_ good. Good enough that he’d have given Aster’s teacher a run for his badges. Though, he was beginning to notice some holes in Jack’s defenses, primarily in the moments when the sprite shifted between land and air.

Jack had knocked him down three more times in the span of those same minutes, but he’d given as good as he got and done the same. They were four and four, now, staves a blur, clacking and singing through the air as they traded blows, dodged, weaved, rolled, and flew. Aster had even begun to take advantage of the nearby walls, using them as launching points for aerial attacks.

He’d caught Jack off-guard the first time. Hadn’t since, but they’d still proven effective, so he thought he’d give it another go.

“Hey, c’mon Cottontail!” Jack floated in midair, while Aster prowled the mats under him. “Thought you were supposed to be this amazing warrior! I’m getting bored here!”

Aster rolled his eyes before feinting. Jack took the bait, which was enough. He _threw_ his staff at Jack who, predictably, dodged. Aster took the momentary distraction to bound off the walls and came flying in with a solid kick to the stomach, knocking the wind from Jack, and Jack from the Wind.

He started to drop, sure of his victory-

Jack caught his waist with the crook of his staff and _pulled_.

Aster grunted in surprise and landed right next to Jack, hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs too.

Well, that was a surprise.

A cheer went up from their apparently captivated audience. Aster continued to ignore them.

Jack sprang to his feet, after he’d caught his breath, crowing with delighted laughter. “That was great, Bunny! Again, sometime?”

Aster flipped up onto his feet a moment later and grinned in return. “Aye mate, that was fun.”

Jack’s eyes went round. “I got you to have _fun_?” he breathed, sounding stunned all over again.

“C’mere you little-” Aster mock-growled as he grabbed Jack around the shoulders and ruffled his hair.

“Hey! Hey, help, assault - Bunny, stop, it takes ages to get my hair artfully mussed!”

“Is that what you call that rat’s nest look?” he joked as he moved to release the struggling sprite.

“Another joke?” Jack stopped struggling, and hung from Aster’s grip. He really didn’t weigh anything at all. “Are you feeling alright? Should we stop by the medics?”

“Knock it off, ya gumby,” he grumbled fondly.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Sunday, 20 May 2012 -- Warren, mid-afternoon**

“I don’t get it.”

Jack didn’t pinch the bridge of his nose, but he really wanted to. “Bunny, he’s using the Force.”

“He just shut off his targeting computer - and why’re they coming in from the trench? They could come in from above. It’s _space_. Up, down, side to side, back and forth. Three dimensions - no limits!”

“This was made in the seventies! They had trouble with filming that then!”

Aster looked away from the screen long enough to glare at Jack, then looked back in time to see the Death Star explode. “Great, now he’s a mass murderer.”

Jack sighed in exasperation. “Bad guys, Bunny. Bad guys.”

“Still got mums, don’t they? And dads, brothers and sisters….”

“Actually, I think most of the Stormtroopers are clones-”

“That’s stupid. Where’d this clone idea come from, anyways?”

“The Clone Wars. Happens before this movie; before Luke was born. There’s a set of prequel movies that are of… debatable value. Lucas wasn’t exactly at his finest.”

Aster grinned, and munched on a handful of popcorn. The butter had gotten into his fur, on his hand and a spot on his chin, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Yeah, well, that flight was just stupid - why isn’t Chewie getting a medal?”

Jack sighed again as the credits rolled. “I’m half-afraid to show you _The Empire Strikes Back_ now.”

“You can’t show me one movie and then not show me the rest.” Aster licked at his butter-coated fingers. Bleh, buttery fur. That didn’t taste good. “Though I will say, inability to have proper aerial dog fights aside, it wasn’t bad.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“Hoth looks like D-1985,” Aster muttered, and shivered. “Bloody cold, that was.”

Jack paused the movie. “D-1985?”

“Little planetoid the Fearlings had taken over. Big enough for an atmosphere, not so big you couldn’t circle it in… two days, though considering how slow it rotated, more like a quarter-day. Utterly miserable. Ice wasn’t even water. Methane, actually. Even with the god-awful heatsuits, it was bloody cold. They’d secreted themselves into the caves. Very extensive, that system was. Naturally formed by methane ‘lava’ when the planetoid had been warmer.”

“Huh. Kind of reminds me about a fight I had a while back. Um… 1874, I think. Siberia. Winter. Cold enough that even _I_ noticed. The things - like Wendigo, but smaller, meaner, more vicious - honey badgers could’ve taken lessons in not giving a shit. And it took forever to kill just one.” Jack scowled at the memory. “They weren’t very good ice skaters, thankfully, though they looked hilarious sliding all over the place.”

Aster smirked, and pointed at the TV screen. “Play the movie, Jack.” He nibbled at a kernel of popcorn. “And why doesn’t it surprise me that you made a bunch of demonic ice monsters go skating?”

Jack grinned at him. “Guess you’re getting to know me,” he said, and hit play.

A few minutes later, Aster howled in protest when the Rebels charged straight at the Walkers, instead of coming at them from the side.

“Scriptwriters aren’t tacticians,” Jack muttered, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“So… what’d you think? … Bunny?” Jack prompted as he removed _Return of Jedi_ from the DVD player.

Aster blinked and shook his head. “Wait, they were _twins_?”

“Uh, yeah. Did you notice the rest of the movie or…?”

“Oh, the rest of the movie was actually pretty good. I’ll give ya that. Just having trouble with how they never noticed. You’d think scent alone would’ve given the game away.”

“Bunny,” Jack sighed. “Humans. Not so good at the scent thing.”

“Chewie, then!”

Jack sighed again as he put the disc away. Aster noticed the sprite started fidgeting almost immediately, toying with the plastic pages.

“What is it, Frostbite?” Aster asked after a full minute of obvious nervousness and crinkling plastic.

“I… it’s getting late. I should probably go,” Jack said softly.

“About that.” Aster stood and stretched. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Thinking? I thought I smelt burning fur.”

“Oi!” Aster reigned in his automatic flash of temper. It’d been getting easier to do in the past few weeks too, at least where Jack was concerned. “No, I’m being serious here, Jackie. You’re always running back and forth between here and that Fortress of yours.”

“Well, yeah,” Jack said. He stood up and nonchalantly stretched, sweater riding up and revealing jutting hipbones and an almost concave stomach. “I’ve got quarters there, and sleeping in trees isn’t as comfortable as you’d think.”

Aster rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve got something I want to show ya. C’mon.”

“Okay,” Jack said, drawing the word out until it had five syllables and a generous heaping of confusion. “Sure. Lead the way.”

He lead Jack down the hallway towards his nest, pausing just before his doorway and turning to address the sprite. He gestured at the blank wall next to him.  
“So, I was thinking. It’s really kind of a waste of time for you to be running back and forth all the time. Plus, my couches aren’t exactly made for sleeping. So…” Aster trailed off as he tapped the wall twice. A hole opened up, big enough for him to walk through comfortably. “I thought I’d make you up a room.”

“A…” Jack blinked several times, and then scrunched his nose up. “A room? For me?”

Aster scratched the back of his neck again, looking to the side, gaze unfocused. “Yeah. I, uh, I spoke with Weyland and we worked out a little portal mechanism - something like those old vacuum tube systems humans used to use to pass messages around a building before they went digital - to move your paperwork back and forth. There’s a little office space for you two, with honest-to-goodness shelves and stuff. And, uh…” He trailed off uncertainly at the look on Jack’s face. “Is… is this not okay?”

“Is…. No! No, this is okay, this is…. Really, it’s a lot, Bunny. I- thank you. No one’s ever- apart from an identi-kit apartment-type thing, but that doesn’t really count, ‘cause I don’t spend a lot of time there, but… move, I wanna look!”

He sighed in relief as the sprite dashed into the room. His sigh turned into a chuckle as Jack gaped.

“It’s _huge_!”

“Well, I saw how much paperwork you had in that ‘office’ of yours, so I thought I’d plan ahead. Over there is your desk. I still prefer to use oil lamps - well, Pooka-style oil lamps, which are a fair bit brighter - although I could change that out for something else if you prefer. On the left here, I made ya a bed. I hope it’s big enough.”

“I could sleep my entire family, Kern, and the kitsune… and no one would touch,” Jack said. “And oil lamps are good.”

“So, do you like it?” Aster asked, still not quite sure of Jack’s reaction.

Jack spun, and lunged. It was surprising enough that Aster didn’t quite twist out of the way in time, so they went down in a tangle of limbs. Jack had his face buried in Aster’s chest ruff, and was making high pitched, squeaky sounds.

“Love it,” he gasped, and thumped his forehead against Aster’s breastbone. “Lots. Thank you!”

Aster chuckled as he returned the hug, a might awkwardly if only because of their position on the floor. “Now that you don’t need to leave, I think we have time for one more movie before bed. Any ideas?”

“Oh, I have an idea… why don’t I get that set up and you… I don’t know, what do you think we’ll need?”

Aster ruffled Jack’s hair once they were standing again. “I can think of a few things. You go get that setup, I’ll make some tea for me. Would you rather tea or hot coco?”

“Hot chocolate? _Real_ hot chocolate?” Jack hummed. “No choice at all - coco. Chocolate. Mmmmm…”

“Of course real chocolate. I make it myself from scratch!” Aster chuckled as he led the way out of the spare - _Jack’s_ room, and down the hall, parting ways at the kitchen.

“Oh, I know you do. I stole all your ‘messes’ when you were experimenting. Yummy.”

Aster rolled his eyes. “That explains so much. Thought I was going daft.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything,” Jack said, and bounced once on his toes. “But since you’ve noticed…”

“I’m glad you liked it,” he replied offhandedly as he rummaged around in the cupboards. After a couple minutes, he muttered, “Where the bleeding hell is the powdered chocolate? I could have _sworn_ I put it in this cabinet!”

Jack cleared his throat from across the room, where he was fiddling with the telly. “Um… correct cabinet, wrong side of the kitchen.”

“If that weren’t helpful,” Aster muttered, crossing the kitchen, “It’d be creepy.”

“What, me knowing where everything is?”

“And how I take my tea. And how I like my salad. And-”

“Self defense, Cottontail. Self defense…. I’ve got the movie. I’ll just go wait in the media room.”

“I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Aster took a sip of his tea. “That’s not what happened.”

“I know that’s not what happened. But it still looks good.” Jack smiled lazily at the scene, and muttered, “Oh yeah, swing that sword… just like that,” under his breath.

His ear twitched, but he ignored the comment for the moment. “But they’re so… _starkers._ I mean, Spartans wore more armor than that! I’m sure your history books have that much. And Xerxes was _not_ that tall. Though he was a bit weird, I’ll grant them that.”

“Starkers, like naked? Oh, I _quite_ agree,” Jack purred. “If they wore anything more than a few scraps of cloth, Bunny, we wouldn’t be able to see their… ah, hard work at the gym…”

Aster reached over and snagged the - controller, was it called? - and paused the movie. “I see you’re rather… _fond_ of their state of undress. Care to tell me anything? I’ve noticed the way Kern looks at you.”

“They,” Jack said, and pointed at the screen, “Are works of art. Very nice works of art. And Kern and I are over. He does the harem thing, I… don’t. But we’re still friends, and he gives the best hugs, so there you are.”

Huh. Well, that explained a few things. Still, ‘hugs’ aren’t quite what he’d call what Kern did with Jack - groping, more like - but that was Jack’s business, not his own.

“Well, at least I’ve confirmed my suspicions then,” he commented offhandedly as he moved to press play, but stopped when Jack replied.

“You could’ve just asked. It’s not like it’s a secret.” Jack ducked his head and stared at Aster from under his bangs. “Unless, uh, unless it bothers you?”

Aster chuckled and ruffled Jack’s hair again. It was actually rather soft, unexpectedly so. “Nah, Frostbite. I’m a shapeshifter, remember? Gender is a bit relative, when you can change out your bits on a whim. I prefer being a bloke though; always have. Dongers are fun to play with.”

Jack blushed so hard, his hair stood in icy spikes. “Good to know,” he said, and pointed at the screen. “Can you start the eye candy back up, then?”

“Sure thing, Jackie. It’s kind of funny watching you gawk anywho.”

Jack blushed even harder. It was hilarious.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "I seem to have an obsession for introducing the Guardians to television. Such a waste of valuable inventing/painting/tooth collecting/dream-weaving time, yeah? On the other hand... fun, occasionally educational, and it's usually pretty good for when you just need to zone out. And something for a security system, too. Whee!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "This chapter was fun. Sparring is pretty fun too. And those movies scenes were great fun. So, fun all around. ^_^"


	11. Chapter 11

**Friday, 29 June 2012 -- Ruins of the Tholos at the Sanctuary of Athena Pronoia, Mount Parnassus, Delphi, Greece, 8:35 am local time**

The dragon bit down on Jack’s leg.

He felt entirely justified in screaming.

The dragon bit down harder in reaction, then shook its head from side to side. Bones snapped. _Important_ bones snapped. And Jack was pretty sure he had whiplash. Just because he didn’t hurt enough _already_.

Then he was dropped to the ground, and the dragon stepped over him and started hunting the Pythia and her two guards. Apprentices. Apprentices armed with really sharp swords and small shields.

Focus _, Jack. Blood loss babbling later. Adrenaline now. Pretty please?_

He pushed up onto hands and knees - nope, just one knee, other one didn’t like him right now - and grabbed his staff.

“ _The Python warned us of attempts upon our temple,” the Oracle said, in the silvery, whispery voice that never failed to give Jack the crawling creeps. “It is no longer safe for us there, until the Python has routed the invaders. So, welcome to Tholos, Regent Frostbite.”_

No longer safe, huh? Also, he didn’t want to meet the Python, if it was capable of handling three-headed dragons with big, sharp teeth and his leg hurt.

He straightened up as much as he could, with the pain making him want to curl sideways around his maimed limb, and hobbled forwards. He couldn’t just - the Oracle had contacted them, said that she’d prophesied WINTER’s fate, and he - they needed to hear that.

Dragon wanted to eat the Pythia? Not if Jack had anything to say about it.

You know. Other than ‘ouch’ and ‘why did I draw the short straw?’

He was forgetting something. It was important. After a moment, he recalled enough for him to reflexively reach into his pocket and clutch desperately at the small talisman he’d been given just for this mission. He had to break it. It was glass. So he threw it down onto the ground - and promptly stepped on a shard of glass with his not-injured foot, _damn it_ \- and hurried after the dragon.

The Wind swooped down and snatched him up. It made the blood rush from his head and out the holes in his leg, but he wasn’t about to complain.

He arrowed his body, and flew down at the nearest head. The dragon was breathing in, and Jack didn’t want to know what for, so he slammed the crook of his staff down on the creature’s muzzle. Smoke and cinders sprayed out dragon’s nostrils, and the other two heads swiveled around on their long necks, subjecting him to the glare of three sets of angry, murderous eyes.

Jack flipped them the bird, then shot up and over the heads and froze the scales between the dragon’s wings. They were pretty tiny for a creature this size, but magic could make a _human_ fly. A dragon wouldn’t even be a challenge. And he had no desire to turn this into an aerial dogfight, thanks very much.

Someone screamed as the dragon turned around, but Jack couldn’t bother with that. He had to keep moving, spinning and dodging the three heads that each took a turn snapping at him. It was hard, because blood loss was making him dizzy, and he was starting to see double. Or maybe triple. And oh, Polaris, his leg _hurt_.

And - and he kind of felt _drunk_ , of all things. Probably the lack of blood.

Probably.

The dragon nipped at his heel with one head, and snapped at his face with another. Jack snarled, the sound weak, and scattered ice shards into the third head’s eyes. It bellowed in shock and pain, recoiling. The other heads winced in echoed sensation.

Jack had to touch down, because he could barely keep his eyes open. The moment he did, of course there was an earthquake.

Wait, no, that was just the dragon flailing about bellowing and stomping its feet. No earthquake. That was good. He didn’t have one of those - kit thingies, boxes…

Why was there a dragon yelling at him?

Jack had enough coherent thought to wince in sympathy when he saw the woman - Pythia? something or other, he couldn’t focus - get slammed hard into a nearby crumble of ruined marble by the tail of the flailing dragon and lie still.

_Not good, right? Yeah, he was supposed to be… what?_

Flailing over, the dragon turned back to Jack.

_Uh… bad?_

It opened its maws wide and -

Took a lightning bolt to the face. All three of them.

“Jack!” Odin hurried over, Gungnir pointed at the dragon while more lightning came down. Like rain. Was Thor in the area? Thor liked lightning.

“Heeey old - man. _Man_. I don’t feel so good.”

Odin knelt down beside Jack - when’d he lie down? The ground was really uncomfortable, there was a rock in his butt - and took Jack’s bloody hand and cradled it between both of his. “Jack, look at me. Focus.”

“On which one of you?” Oh, head hurt now. Fun. “There are three.” He chuckled weakly. “One was bad enough.”

“Jack!” Odin left off holding his hand with two hands, and moved one hand to Jack’s shoulder, and he thought he might have lost track of all the hands. “Jack, you - you were bitten. Was the dragon poisonous?”

Poison? Um… focus! Focus. Right. “Um… green drippy fangs?”

“Poison.” Odin looked grim. “Jack, I need you to stay awake. I need you to do that for me.”

“‘Kay. Can I see Bunny now?” That was important for some reason.

“Have to get you to the Fortress. Then yes, you can see that flea-bitten rabbit. But you keep your eyes on me right now.”

“‘Kay.” Oh. Leaning against a rock now. Rock was better. Against back, not up the ass. That was good, right?

Other things were supposed to go up there, not rocks.

Jack must have lost track of time, because the next thing he knew the dragon was a speck in the distance, though it had left two heads behind, which Thor was smacking around in anger - he should work on that temper - and oh, look, pretty nurses were carrying him off!

He heard someone calling his name, but it was distant and didn’t matter and he was just so tired. Nothing wrong with a nap, was there? Nope. Nothing wrong. Nothing….

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Friday, 29 June 2012 -- Warren, 4:23 pm local time**

He was absolutely not brooding, pining, or anything like it. He was just cleaning out a closet, that was all, nothing to get confused or weirded out by.

Even if Jack did call the closet the ‘hellmouth’ and had hung a rosary up on the wall opposite the door. Jack was a jackass, that was all.

He rummaged through the closet a bit more, then frowned at the ugliest silver-and-gold, gem-studded cup he’d ever seen. Where’d he pick this up, and why on Earth had he _kept_ it?

He glanced towards the front of the burrow when he heard a gasp. He saw Kern standing near one of the couches, hand pressed to his ear, apparently listening to someone over their wireless communication devices.

If it’d been Jack standing there, listening to some report or other, he’d be filling Aster in. Instead, Kern turned away; keeping WINTER stuff secret, apparently.

Aster cleared his throat. “Kern?”

Kern turned. Alarm shot through Aster - the pain on Kern’s face was plain, but it was the words that Kern spoke next that made a chill run down his spine.

“It’s Jack.”

Aster dropped the cup, it’s garish design and existence completely forgotten. “What happened?”

“Fight. He’s hurt badly; broken leg, poisoned. Some sort of neurotoxin; the medics don’t recognize it- what are you doing?”

Aster had already dived back into the closet and was rummaging around. A few moments later, he let out a satisfied grunt and held up a large chest in triumph.

“I _knew_ this was in here somewhere. All my rare supplies. If anything’ll help, it’ll be in here. Let’s go.”

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Friday, 29 June 2012 -- Fortress, Shackleton Ice Shelf, Antarctica, 5:39 pm local time**

On a scale of one to ten, he felt like measles. Not that he’d caught them. But his siblings and cousins had, and he’d been dragooned into running around fetching water and blankets and food and he couldn’t remember now. He’d collapsed into bed every night feeling so tired, and worried, and half-wishing to get sick himself because then maybe he wouldn’t have to run around and be worried.

Yeah. That was how he felt now.

_Why was that again?_

He opened his eyes to find out and - why were Bunny and Kern watching him with concerned expressions?

“Hey,” he whispered, and made a face. He could barely hear _himself_. What had happened? And why did his throat feel so sore, and his tongue feel like it’d swollen up and filled his mouth like a sponge? And why did his tongue also feel oddly scalded, like he’d drunk something too hot?

Both of his watchers with their creepy stalker-expressions made concerned sounds, and then - what, were they having a glare-off over who got to feed him ice chips? That was… that was actually kind of _sweet_. Kern must have won, because he was the one who held ice chips to Jack’s cracked and painfully dry lips, and oh!

Ice was the best. The absolute best. Just. Fuck everything else. Ice was where it was at, baby.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Bunny said, voice as dry and deadpan as anything.

“Did I say that out loud?” Jack whispered, eyebrows furrowed.

Bunny nodded, snickering, apparently despite himself.

_Oh, cool._

“You said that too,” Kern noted offhandedly.

_Yay, no brain mouth filter!_

Bunny laughed. It was a nice sound. He got a funny look for that thought-

Oh, right. Thinking out loud.

“Yeah,” Bunny said, and tweaked the sheets draped over Jack. “You’re on the _real_ good drugs, aren’t you Snowflake?”

Snowflake? That was a nice name. Oh, look, Bunny was blushing.

Kern laughed. Then he stood up, and gave Bunny the cup of ice chips. “Unfortunately, the drugs mean I must do his paperwork. Heal up quickly, my Regent. We were all worried about you.”

Jack looked plaintively up at Bunny. “How can I heal up quickly? He’s threatening me with paperwork.” He groped desperately at Bunny’s arm, even though he could barely lift his hand more than an inch above the mattress. “They stole my typewriter. They - it was mine and they _stole_ it.”

“When did this happen?” Bunny asked softly, as he carefully fed Jack another ice cube.

“Uh. Back in. Um. Fifties? Or sixties. Or maybe the seventies- ooooh, no, wait. It was with the hippo people. Hippy. Hippy hippos?” He shook his head. Bunny chuckled. “Those. Because apparently my copperplate makes the baby agents cry happy tears of joy. So they stole it.” He made a mournful sound, and then hummed his appreciation when Bunny gave him another ice cube. _Oh that was good._

“What do you remember, Snowflake?” he asked after Jack had finished chewing.

“I had to go be Regent,” he said slowly, trying to make his fuzzy brain cooperate. It was harder than it should have been. “And then there was a - what happened to the Python?” He tried to sit up, but then everything burned, so he stopped trying.

“It was tangling with another dragon at the Temple.”

Then… wait, no. There’d been a dragon, he remembered, and he’d fought it because… because… “Pythia?”

“She’s… okay. Well, healthy, at least. She didn’t react like you did to the neurotoxin. She’s still out. But in one piece. She’s in the next ward.”

“New… Nor…” Jack rubbed at his forehead. “Ten cent word ‘stead of ten dollar?”

“Poison. It’s why you feel like a cactus. After a few technicolor yawns, and the nerve damage, I’m not surprised.”

“I got the poison part,” he said weakly, and slumped back against the pillows. Ow. Very, very ow. “Why’re you here?”

Bunny rubbed the back of his neck, a light blush coloring the inside of his ears. “Well… y’see, your medics didn’t have the right medications in stock for the toxin in question. I did. I brought everything over as soon as I found out.”

Jack blinked, and then smiled weakly. “Thanks, Cottontail.” This time, he made damn sure his thoughts stayed behind his teeth and not spewed out for everyone and Bunny to hear. Not that his train of thought would make much sense, anyways, because it was just a litany of ‘maybe, maybe’ over and over again, and that barely made sense to him, and…

He blinked, and frowned up at the ceiling. “How long was I out?”

“Only about an hour or so. I have to say, your medics work fast. They’d have kept you under longer, I think, if I hadn’t had the right solution at hand. Your leg’s still healing though, which is why it’s splinted and wrapped. You’ve got another…” He checked the nearby clock on the wall. Jack totally did not admire the muscles in the Pooka’s neck. “Hour or so before that break is repaired.”

“Great, lying around being bored,” he muttered, and eyed Bunny hopefully. “You could stay with me? Read more of the ‘Agent Frostbite Do Not’ list?”

Bunny scratched the top of his thigh. “Actually, I was wanting a word with Odin, first. I shouldn’t be gone long. Do you mind?”

Did he mind? Well, no, but… “What do you want to talk to Father Frost about?” he asked.

The Pooka fidgeted. “Something.”

“Helpful,” Jack muttered, but waved one hand in dismissal. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just stay here. Bored and alone. Watching the paint dry. Go have fun.”

“I’ll be back soon. Promise.”

Jack grinned at him. “Not too soon. If my leg’s still broken Gladyce will come by, and I thought you didn’t like her?”

Bunny made a face. “... soonish?”

“Go on, Cottontail. Annoy Frost-father, don’t get thrown out of the Fortress at altitude.”

Bunny shuddered and waved as he left the room, leaving Jack to his thoughts.

And oh, what thoughts he had - or, at least, attempted to.

First he tried remembering the fight, but he got only confused pieces - healing trauma and damage from the poison, he suspected - and the drugs pretty much ensured he couldn't follow a train of thought from beginning to end anyways. And it was kind of inevitable that Jack’s thoughts wandered towards Bunny, considering he’d been sitting right there looking all _warm_ and _cuddly_ and _concerned_ and all.

Bunny. Bunny, Bunny, Bunny. Jack sighed, and painfully covered his eyes with one arm. Bunny, watching those movies. Bunny, who’d smiled more at Jack, and snarked with him, and who kept doing that cute, befuddled artist routine where he couldn’t remember where he put his glasses, but rattled off color names and remembered where every last tube of paint was. If Jack hadn’t known better - Polaris, the Pooka forgot five out of six meals if left to his own devices - he’d have thought it was an act or something.

It wasn’t. It was very cute, though, and Jack really couldn’t mind when it gave him excuses to remind Bunny to eat, or sleep, or where his glasses were, or why he had an Encyclopedia Britannica missing a book, because Bunny had disagreed with the section on rabbits and mythology.

He sighed, and moved his arm so he could stare up at the ceiling again.

“It’s all his fault,” he mumbled, and scowled a bit. That - night. Not a date. Because just because they’d watched movies together, and Bunny had given him a room, didn’t make it a date.

No matter how much he wanted otherwise.

Tempting, very tempting, to blame the not-a-date conundrum on why the dragon-thing had gotten the jump on him, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t why he’d ended up in the medical wing.

_Again… I’m just glad he didn’t see my nameplate on the foot of the bed…_

Jack closed his eyes, because the ceiling was really boring, and wondered if rolling over would be a good idea or not. Probably wasn’t, really. And then Gladyce would be angry with him. And his leg would hurt.

Whatever. It hadn’t been a date, because Bunny wasn’t interested and never would be, and Jack would just have to go back to shoving his stupid feelings back into the metaphorical closet and ignoring them.

It’d worked pretty well so far, really.

Granted, that was before he knew Bunny actually liked guys. That didn’t help any.

_Shut. Up. Brain. Mental images not necessary or desired… in public..._ Jack made a face, then grinned stupidly. Bunny liked guys. Girls too, apparently, but - _guys._ The age thing was still a problem, but the gender thing wasn’t, and…

_Goddamn it, no brain! Shut up!_

A few minutes later, Gladyce had to pry the pillow away from where he was clutching it to his face. She fussed over him for a while, then finally, _finally_ , removed the splint and wrappings. After he paced the length of the ward _three_ times, she was satisfied he could go.

Now… where was Bunny anyway?

_I wonder what he’s up to?_

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Friday, 29 June 2012 -- Fortress, Shackleton Ice Shelf, Antarctica, 6:02 pm local time**

Why was this place so - so - bloody _complicated_?

_I swear, it’s like Daedalus designed this place!_

After asking directions a couple more times - and emphatically ignoring _anything_ anyone with green eyes suggested, just to be safe - Aster finally located the chambers where Odin spent much of his off-duty time.

He knocked with as much politeness as he could muster after another bout of wandering the Fortress in a state of irritation and confusion. Which was probably harder than he needed to.

“Enter,” Odin called, voice muffled by the thick door.

Aster stepped into the chambers and gently closed the door, much as he wanted to slam it to vent his frustration. They were - spacious was too generous. A sight better than the ‘closet’ Jack had worked in, but… cozy was probably the best word. There was at least enough room to maneuver around the large oak desk and the room had a small sitting area off to one side, near a moderately large firepit. Odin was reclining in a worn armchair, one covered in well-used furs and hide, with what looked like carved bone in place of wood. The design was vaguely reminiscent of a Cogswell chair, though much more rustic.

And he was holding what looked like a cheap romance novel in one hand, with every expression of enjoying the dross between the pages. “Bunnymund. Is this important?”

He ground his teeth for a moment. No need to shout at Odin.

Yet.

“Is there any particular reason Frostbite has a bed _with his name on it_?”

Okay. A bit more growl than he’d intended.

Odin sighed, sounding utterly put upon, and lowered the book. “You think I was _happy_ about that joke.”

Aster took a seat across from the old god, having found a chair that seemed designed for spirits with tails. For all he knew, it was. “Joke or not, it’s indicative of a pattern I don’t like the looks of. How often is he in there?”

“He is a Regent,” Odin pointed out, even as he set his book aside. The spine was worn and cracked; either it was second hand, or a favorite. “At need, he is called upon to deal with adversaries few have the strength or ability to face. And, too, he has _you_ for a Charge. You are the most challenging individual anyone has ever guarded, Bunnymund. Many, many people would see you die. All the training in the world cannot completely negate injury.”

He ground his teeth some more in irritation as he thought over that. “Why don’t you handle these things? Or the Queen, or even the General? Why does he have to do anything but watch me?”

“I am the leader of WINTER, and Manfred Lunanoff is my Charge. Anika is my second-in-command and chief intelligence officer, and guards Mother Nature, the Lady Seraphina. And Mstislav guards Father Time. He is rarely in the here and now; it took some wrangling to get Father Time to stop by for the meeting with you and your Guardians. And I do send my son and brother, Thor and Loki, out as much as I dare, but they are not _officially_ part of WINTER. For that, Jack needs must go.”

Aster growled for a moment, before sighing gustily. “I don’t like it. He’s just so… so _young_.”

“He is old in both wisdom and pain, and I do not speak of physical hurts.” Odin looked off into the distance, or maybe the past, and the lines that bracketed his mouth grew deeper.

Aster cocked his ears inquiringly even as he made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Bloody old gods; couldn’t ever just say things plainly.

“Wounds of the heart, Bunnymund. Seeing one’s beloved in danger, and being unable to… but I say too much. Such is for him to impart, should he desire your knowing this.”

_Wounds of the…?_ Aster’s eye twitched. Never plain-spoken. Never. Though… _beloved?_

“Odin. I’m _older_ than you. I do understand loss, you know. Can you say no more?”

The one-eyed gaze was sad, yet intent, and made him want to squirm in his seat. “Forgive me for saying this, but you were young when everything… was lost, yes? No mate, no children…” He cleared his throat. “Your parents and siblings, yes, but none who traded you heart for heart and swore to walk the life-path with you. And after you came here, you remained reclusive. Or am I wrong?”

Aster shifted uncomfortably. “Well, there was one doe that I had my eye on, but, well… you know how that worked out.”

“I do. So permit me this. You have more years upon me, but I have more experiences. I have faced war, and I have lived through peace. I have spoken the words of love and devotion to my chosen queen, and I loved her fiercely. I held my firstborn son, still bloody, in his first minutes of life. And I held him when he died, Bunnymund, from an error that was ultimately my fault.”

He stopped, and looked away. His throat flexed, and when he spoke next, his voice was harsh. “My experiences have aged me. Ragnarok took my wife, my children… there is nothing to the pain of that. Nothing. Thor and Loki humor me in staying close, but Jack would die did I confine him to safety here.”

Aster’s eyes widened noticeably at the backhanded admission. The shock must have been plain on his face, because Odin swore in Old, _old_ Norse.

“Nothing I have said is to leave this room,” Odin hissed, English strangely accented. The old Norse hadn’t been spoken when ‘English’, as it was now, came onto the scene. The closest it sounded like was, perhaps, a German man speaking Welsh with marbles in his mouth, only in English. “Do you hear me? _Nothing_!”

“On my honor as a Pooka,” Aster intoned, old words leaping to his mouth before he’d truly thought them through. When Odin gave him a confused look, he realized he’d spoken in Old High Pookan. He repeated them in English.

“Well enough,” Odin grumbled, clipped, Oxford accent returned to its place.

“May I ask then, if that truly meant what it sounded like it meant?” Aster queried cautiously.

Odin glowered at him, before shifting the eyepatch up onto his forehead and rubbed at the empty socket. “I traded this for wisdom,” he grumbled. “Yet the wisdom never helped. Yes. It did.”

Aster cocked his head. “How long have you known?”

“For certain? Since Manfred confirmed it, when I confronted him over choosing Jack - Jack, with no believers, _my_ Jack, agent and… Manfred had no right. Guardianship would have killed the boy.” He replaced the eyepatch. “But I suspected. Baldr’s son had taken a human wife, before dying.”

“I must admit… Jack is stronger and braver than I ever expected. Now that you mention it, I…” Aster paused, thinking over his words carefully. “Yes. I do think I can see a little Baldr in him. I always liked that son of yours, you know.”

“And the brat liked women,” Odin growled, scowling a bit. “... Jack does not. At least, not in that way.”

Aster smirked. “Yeah, we had that convo recently. I admit, I did not expect it at first, but after seeing the way he and Kern behave together….”

Odin muttered in Old Norse again, but as it was about Kern and something to do with a ritual knife, Aster politely ignored it, though it was a very - _vivid_ image.

He opened his mouth to ask another question when a knock sounded at the door.

Odin made a very Jack-like face, lips quirking into a lopsided smirk and one eyebrow quirking up. “Come,” he said, lifting his voice to be heard through the door.

The door creaked open and Jack stuck his head in, looking around in mild confusion for a moment before his gaze alighted on Aster. The grin that bloomed across his face was very bright. “There you are! I thought it was weird that I felt you here, but I guess the Old Man’s off duty.”

“Felt me?” Aster made a face, and heaved himself up out of the chair. “That’s creepy, mate.”

Jack shrugged as he entered the room. “It’s a thing. I can explain it later, if you want.”

“Maybe later. Besides, you look like something the cat dragged backwards through a hedge.”

Jack stepped forward and wobbled a bit, catching himself on the doorframe. “I - I think I feel like one.”

“Why’d that harpy let you leave your bed, you drongo? Here, let me help you; you’ll probably rest better at home anyway.”

“Hey, so, I got bitten by a dragon and poisoned. Does that mean I get hot chocolate? With marshmallows? Because I think I should… Bunny? Bunny, did you just roll your eyes at me?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Are we having fun? Yes we are. Have we blasted past 60k in words? Yes we have. Will your screaming amuse us? Yes it will. Have a nice day!"
> 
> *Corgi simply laughs maniacally*


	12. Chapter 12

**Thursday, 5 July 2012 -- Warren, late afternoon**

“I want equal participation.”

Jack paused, and looked down at the cabbage rolls he was halfway through making. “... but you’ll get fur in the food, you said. That’s why-”

“Not in cooking, you…. Fighting.”

“Am I missing something?” Bunny scowled at him. “I’m missing something.”

Jack set the rolls aside, mindful of the knife. No need to reopen his skin after he’d _finally_ fully healed from the dragon attack. He turned and leaned against the counter, facing Bunny properly. “So, what is this about then?”

Bunny glowered down at his workbook. “You have a _bed_ dedicated to you in the medical ward.” He looked back up. “You keep getting hurt - and mostly because you’re protecting me.”

Jack shrugged dismissively. “And? It’s part of the job.”

_Damn. So he did see the sign._

“It shouldn’t be. Look.” Bunny stood up, then glared at the cabbage rolls. “Outside, maybe? Where I won’t shed all over the tucker?”

Jack gestured towards the door. “By all means, Cottontail.”

“Right.” Bunny led the way, all the way out the front door to a little knoll that had been purposely set up as a place to sit and look out over the egg fields. The bench of living wood - and one day Jack would pin the lagomorph down about just how he’d gotten the tree to do that - was sized for Pooka proportions, so when Jack sat on it his legs dangled.

Honestly, it was pretty fun. He got to kick his feet like a little kid and then point out the size issue and Bunny had to shut up about how Jack looked like he was twelve.

“I was a soldier,” Bunny said. “A ways back, but still. Not something you forget.”

Jack decided it might be best to defuse the seriousness a bit. He grinned sardonically. “Could have fooled me.”

Bunny’s glare was epic. “What I’m saying is, I’m out of practice, but that’s not so good for you. ‘Cause instead of being a _warrior_ scholar, I’m having trouble remembering which part of the sword goes into the enemy. Strewth, you’d think I’d never lived through the Fearling Wars, way I’ve been flailing about lately.”

Jack smiled. “Well, you’ve done pretty well sparring against me. That doesn’t seem too out of practice. Rusty, maybe, but not _out_ of practice.”

“Trust me, it’s out of practice. Those… demons… are nothing compared to fearlings, or dream pirates. One fearling would be about equal to twenty demons, ya know? And I could take on four, five fearlings at once.”

Jack let out a low whistle. “ _Okay_. Yeah, that’s out of practice. Like, beyond rusty; more like, falling apart-”

“Oi!”

“Kidding! Kidding!” Jack held up his hands placatingly, his grin never faltering.

Bunny mimed a blow at his head anyways. “Yeah, well. Once I’m back up to snuff, ya yobbo, I want equal responsibility for this guarding myself nonsense. You… you just keep throwing yourself between me and danger, and… it’s getting to me.”

_Is… is he saying he_ cares _if I get hurt? Cares about me?_ Jack suppressed the giddy laugh that wanted to bubble up, and replied, as nonchalantly as possible, “Is it?”

Bunny looked away, and began picking at the rough bark under his fingertips. “A little. You’re such a scrawny thing, Frostbite. Just like a half-grown kit. Ain’t right.”

Kit? Well, that deflated his giddy a bit. But still…

“Well, if it means that much to you…” Jack trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging as a prompt for Bunny to continue.

“Doubt you could arrange training from my old days,” Bunny admitted. “Not exactly another three thousand Pooka hanging about to practice shield walls or fighting solo against an army with.” Jack blinked. “Most deadly army in the galaxy, we were… the bloody canines insisted, stupid, inbred…” He paused, and cleared his throat. “How do you lot teach your new cadets, in WINTER?”

Jack thought it over for a moment, before grinning broadly. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

“After tucker, yeah?” Bunny asked. His stomach then growled embarrassingly loudly.

“After,” Jack agreed, nodding, as he laughed.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 5 July 2012 -- The Fortress, Fortress, Shackleton Ice Shelf, Antarctica, 7:54 pm local time**

“You know, Cottontail,” Jack said, and held the door for Aster. “This is WINTER stuff. Probably nothing.”

Yeah, probably ‘nothing’ the way Pitch swanning about France during the Inquisition had been ‘nothing’. Jack’s expression when his earbud had gone off had been… worried. “We’re not done talking.”

“Bit far to go just to continue the conversation.”

“Book learning’s a bit much for me, is what I’m saying.”

“But there’s some good stuff in here!” Jack exclaimed, exasperated. “Good tactics, and logistics…” He flit around the room, scanning titles. “Look! An original copy of _The Art of War_ , by Sun Tzu!”

“Got one’a me own, in my own library, and I was _leading_ armies at only a century.”

Jack pouted. “It’s got anecdotes in the margins written by Sun Tzu himself?”

“Okay, don’t have that.” All the same… Aster looked at the book Jack was enthusing over and made a face. “If you think you’re leaving me here in the library on my own, you think again. They better have a chair for me, ‘cause no way am I propping up ice walls.”

Jack shook his head as he grinned lopsidedly. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. Actually, in here is the best seating. Around the corner over there.” Jack pointed off to his right. “I just wanted to grab a few training manuals to show you while we were here, then I thought I’d show you around the training facilities besides the gym.”

“You’re a brat.” The seating so suggested was an oversized chair, a ‘chair and a half’ if he had the terminology right, and big enough for most young giants to be comfortable. Aster found it just as soft and plushy as the overstuffed cushions suggested, and curled up on the seat in the way few chairs actually let him, but was exceedingly comfortable.

Made him look a bit like a young kit himself, but who cared about that when his back didn’t have that odd little ache just above his tail? North’s chairs always left him in need of a good stretch, after.

Jack grinned at him, then moved to a nearby table, where he started piling books.

The library door opened, for the Snow Queen. She looked both comfortable and fashionable in the odd way of women everywhere, as though two inch heels were just as good as bare feet. Aster gave said footwear a dubious look, but didn’t open his mouth.

He’d had _sisters_. He knew better.

“Don’t strip the library,” she commented offhandedly, and sat down near the head of the table. “What’s all this? You slept through these cou- Jack, you were _supposed_ to give lectures on this subject.”

_What?!_

Jack grinned brightly at her. “Practical experience?”

“Oh, is _that_ why Lecture Hall C is covered in paint splatters?”

Jack glanced evasively to the side. “...no.” He turned his gaze back. “The baby agents just wanted a demonstration!”

“Mm.” Anika dropped it, and turned to Aster. “Oh, I wish my spine was as flexible as yours. That position would put me in traction for a month, it’s hardly fair. You look so comfortable.”

Aster hummed in contentment and nodded. “What’re you here for? I thought Jack was just going to show me around and whatnot. Maybe setup a schedule or what-have-you.”

He turned and glared at Jack. Panicked expressions didn’t go with schedules or tours, and he didn’t believe a word of what Jack had stammered about having to go to WINTER to make the arrangements.

Jack blinked, and winced slightly.

Anika raised a delicately curved eyebrow, and then smirked. “Oh, is that what we’re doing? Would you like to attend one of Jack’s lectures, Bunnymund? I assure you, they’re always entertaining.”

Jack spluttered. “But you said you never came…!”

“The Pooka here isn’t the only one capable of a good disguise. Granted, my method involves a lot more mundane means than shapeshifting.” Anika smirked at Jack.

_Oh, that reminds me… I should start practicing that again._ Aster frowned a little. Maybe he should start by just shifting between plains and mountain and tundra lagomorphic design? Before getting a bit creative and stretching out to other Pooka clans, or…

Decisions, decisions; he couldn’t help but imagine a _vargr’s_ reaction to a Pooka Canim. _Be nice to see one of those ruddy beasts up against one of my monstrous kin. Canim might’ve been bloody giant wolves, but at least they were_ polite _about it._

“Good,” Odin said, as he closed the door behind him. “You’re here. Bunnymund.” He nodded his head in the way of old martial arts masters, eye up and glaring at Aster. “Allow me to brief you all on the situation.”

_Situation?_

This just kept getting better and better. Aster leveled a deadly glare on Jack; he at least had the grace to look chagrined.

Odin ignored the byplay and sat down at the head of the table. “Manfred got a message through to us that there was a ‘disturbance in the force’, and whoever snuck those movies to him is going to be keelhauled.”

“We’re in an iceberg,” Anika pointed out.

“See me care.”

Jack attempted to hide a smirk. Attempted.

“Keelhauled,” Odin said, and pointed at Jack. “At any rate, this… disturbance…” Odin’s eye twitched at the word. “Has him worried. It might not be anything, because the last time he got this upset it was over TiVo and that Jennifer girl. But the time before that was fairly serious; September 4th, 476, to be precise,” he said, though that last was apparently directed specifically at Jack.

Jack let out a low whistle. “Fall of Rome. So this is, like, _major_ major.”

“Or TiVo-related.” Odin shrugged. “It’s necessitating a visit to the moon. I wanted you here so I didn’t have to hunt you down once I have more.”

“He should go with you,” Anika suggested.

“Which he?” Jack asked, looking wary. “Because this he is quite happy here on Earth. Although I agree, Bunny should go. He can meet up with the Jade Rabbit.”

“Oy.” Bunny flicked an ear, and narrowed his eyes. “That bloody bugger never lived on the moon, right bleeding arsehole. Stole some of my herbs, he did!”

Jack snorted a laugh, apparently caught off-guard. Well, that arsehole _had_ stolen from him. Still owed him recompense, too.

“I mean Jack. It’s time he met Lunanoff.” Odin frowned at Jack, and killed the apparent protest without Jack having even opened his mouth. “You may come if you wish, Bunnymund.”

“I think not, mate. I like to keep my feet on the ground. Last time I was up there I felt rather… disquieted.”

“Seasick,” Jack coughed into his fist. Aster shot him a glare.

“It’s decided,” Odin said, and ignored Jack’s scowl. “Anika, you have command until Jack and I return.”

“So noted,” she said, and stood up. She glanced over at Aster. “Do you want to stay here or should I assign a junior agent as your guide? Loki, perhaps?”

Aster failed to suppress the look of panic that flit across his face. Anika laughed.

Odin might have smiled at the byplay, but if he did, the Pooka missed it. Instead, when he looked up at the Head of WINTER, the man was frowning.

“Do you have to sit like that?” Odin asked. “It makes my back hurt just looking at you.”

“It’s comfortable.”

“So you say,” Odin replied dubiously.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**The Luminary, Mons Huygens, Montes Apenninus, Luna, Earth Orbit**

Odin reached to the side and caught Jack by the collar when he almost fell on his face. “Easy,” he murmured, and watched Jack’s face for panic and suffocation. The lack of atmosphere… but Jack adjusted quickly enough, although the disgust in his expression was something to see.

“There’s no _air_ here,” Jack complained. “How can I even hear you speak?”

“Magic.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Makes me glad I’m a dead guy.”

Odin didn’t react. Jack’s heartbeat and respiration were living-normal, though he could hold his breath longer than anyone, apart from a few seal-folk. Still. “Manfred is this way. Be polite.”

Jack mimed Odin’s warning glance. He chose to ignore the behavior. He knew that Jack knew better and that Jack knew he knew that. The brat was just trying to get a rise out of him. Not today.

“Why do I even have to meet him, anyways? He’s your Charge, and he takes ‘loner’ to a whole new level.” Jack folded his arms and sulked, though he kept close to Odin’s heels. “I mean, he could’ve talked to me any time before this - sent a letter, asked you to pass along the message, done one of his Guardian communiqué light shows…”

Odin reached back and caught Jack’s shoulder. He squeezed reassuringly, even as he pulled the boy forwards. “Perhaps. There will be oxygen shortly.”

“Oh, _thank_ god, Polaris, Thor, and that bird thing in Egypt _…_ ”

Odin suppressed a laugh. It wouldn’t do to encourage the boy right now.

They soon approached the Luminary, rounding a large rock formation. Jack let out a low whistle, then paused abruptly and frowned. Probably confused over how that worked without an atmosphere. They were greeted by the usual robotic butler and led down the usual route through the spaceship-cum-building. They soon found themselves in the observatory.

Did the man _ever_ leave?

Jack muttered something that sounded like “Ow, my eyes!” as Manfred came into sight.

Manny spun around on his chair immediately. “Hrosshársgrani! Jackson! So good to see you!”

Odin folded his arms and ignored Jack’s snicker. “You mentioned a disturbance, Manfred.”

“I did?” He looked confused for all of two seconds. Then his eyes lit up. “Oh! Right! I did! Come, come! I must show you what I have seen!”

Jack grumbled softly, “It better not be TiVo….”

“Quiet,” Odin muttered back. Then he shoved Jack forward with a hand between the shoulder blades.

They moved over to a technological doo-dad that displayed an image of Earth, much like something a satellite might record. Only, instead of color images, or the blues and reds of heat-imaging technology, instead the picture was mainly grayscale, with motes of light and lines of glowing energy wrapped around the spinning globe.

The world’s magic, he realized. Not the belief that sustained the Guardians, but the world’s actual fucking magic. The stuff that kept the water cycles rotating, that made it possible for everything from butterflies to elk to migrate for leagues upon leagues every year.

“What about it?” he asked.

Manny sighed dramatically. “Galdraföðr. You see this here?” He pointed at a spot on the image. Eastern Europe, or thereabouts. “Look at the lines. The ripples. Most disturbing.”

Odin obediently looked, but he didn’t see any ripples. He said so. Perhaps with a bit more invective than the subject deserved.

“Oh! Right, right. I need to flip… ah, that switch. Or was it _that_ switch? Whatever; I’ll flip both. And, here, let me just zoom in a bit…. There!”

Jack, doing his best impression of a moody teenager to date, made a rude sound in the back of his throat. Odin absently reached over and smacked him upside the back of his head, unable to look away from the image.

He ignored Jack’s whispered, “He _Gibb’s smacked_ me! I don’t even-”

The glowing lines were shredding, being pulled apart and - it looked for all the world like some of the lines’ energy was being pulled down a drain. Like a stream of ink that had brushed up against a whirlpool.

“This?” he asked, and pointed at the center of the quasi-whirlpool. “What is that?”

“That! That… one moment.” Manny spun around and rifled through several books, before finding the one he seemed to want. He flipped several pages, muttering to himself, before spinning back around and slapping the book down against the console victoriously. “ _That_ is this!”

The book displayed an image eerily similar to what was on the screen. The caption read simply ‘Arise.’

Odin frowned at the book, the screen, and then at Manfred. “Explain,” he growled.

The crazy man practically vibrated in his excitement to share. “See! This means that something old, something, perhaps, forgotten, is _arising_ from a long slumber, or perhaps imprisonment. Maybe both? Either way, it is most probably not good. See here, how the lines are a darker shade of grey than the rest? And here, where there’s that black sparkle?” Manny flipped through several more pages. “See here, this is what they mean!”

“Manfred, you spilt coffee on this page.” Only a few words were visible, let alone legible. And… Well, Odin only hoped that was coffee.

“Did I?” Manny gazed at the page. “Oh, so I did. I’ll have to have the book cleaned, later. Anyway, you can see why this is bad! These lines indicate very dark things. Very dark, indeed. You would take heed of them. The amount of power draining into that vortex is beyond anything you’ve handled in the last millenium. Give or take a century or two.”

“We have a lot more people now,” Odin pointed out. And then glanced pointedly at Jack. “Anything to add?”

Jack grunted and shook his head. Odin rolled his eye. Teenagers.

“Here! Take this with you!” Manny passed him a printout. It looked like a jumble of numbers and letters. Not all in English. Or Norse. Or even German. Was… was that a hieroglyph? “Anika will know what to do with that.”

Odin nodded, and accepted the paper. Then he looked from Manny to Jack and back again, as meaningfully as he knew how.

Jack sighed dramatically.

Odin rolled his eye again. Teenagers.

“Oh! Also also! Might I have a word with young Jackson here, before you go?”

Jack hunched his shoulders and glowered at Manny from under his fringe. “About?” he asked, sounding as enthused as the time Odin had made him take a class in modern weaponry.

Manny ignored him for the moment, addressing Odin still. “In private?”

“What about?” Odin asked. Mind, he was all for Jack talking with Manny; he’d overheard a few rants up at the moon over the centuries.

Manny simply twinkled mysteriously at him in reply.

He looked down at Jack, who nearly sneered back. That made up his mind. “Five minutes,” he said. “That’s all we can spare.”

Jack scowled, and then sulked after Manny. After two minutes, Odin heard Jack all but yell “but you didn’t _ask_ ” and smiled to himself.

About time someone else took Manny to task for that particular bout of stupidity.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 5 July 2012 -- Warren, late evening**

“So you’re back from the Moon, I see,” Aster said without looking up from the sketch he was making of the hillside. He’d ‘paused’ the light enchantment on the Warren so he could take his time with the sunset this evening.

“Manny’s a hyperactive little shit, and this is me saying it.” Jack slumped down beside him, almost close enough to touch, and sat curled up with his knees to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. “How’d you know it was me anyway?”

“Moondust. I can smell it on’ya. What happen-” Aster stopped mid-sentence to laugh as he finally looked up and saw Jack, covered from head to foot, in grey-white powdery dust.

“Bite. Me.”

Aster turned back to his sketch for a moment, making a few final strokes as he continued to chuckle. Satisfied, he closed the sketchbook and reached over to a rock, tapping lightly against the surface. A panel appeared and he tapped a few buttons, resetting the timer on the enchantment. The panel disappeared a few seconds after he stopped touching it, returning to the appearance of smooth rock.

“If you don’t explain that right now - how did I miss this before? How - I will shake all this dust onto you and then do something with mud and a mohawk, just watch. Tell! Tell me now!”

Aster laughed again as he stood, stretching languidly. “Old Pooka magi-tech. Designed to look like natural things. In fact, some _are_. That tree over there is actually a workstation, for example. I can show you some of the old manuals later.”

Jack twisted around like an excited ferret, and actually managed to bounce up and down a few times without changing position. “Really? This is so cool! This- hey, what’d you do, anyways?”

“Just resetting the timer on the light enchantment. It should catch up-” The Warren was suddenly dark. ‘Starlight’ twinkled into existence. “Now. I’d paused it so I could sketch the sunset.”

Jack eyed the rock, a somewhat disturbing expression visible even in the faint light. “Is that what that thing does, control the light in here? Interesting…”

“Only if I want it to, ya yobbo.” Aster smirked.

“I’m just thinking tactically,” Jack protested, far too innocently. “I mean, let’s say worst case scenario, Pitch gets in here at night. Then you wham him with noon sunlight. Think of the screaming he’d do!”

Aster chuckled. “That might do, at that. Maybe, _if you’re good_ , I’ll show you how to operate it later. Now, come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I’m fine.” Jack swiped at his hair; dust came down like rain. “Manny’s a jerk. Did I say that yet?”

“Yes, you did. Eccentric, that one is. And, no, you’re not fine - you're shedding dust worse than when I’m mid-shed in winter. Now, come. I’ll get you cleaned right up.”

“Oooooh,” Jack crooned. “I’d _forgotten_ about your winter shedding.”

Aster twitched, then led the way back to the Burrow without reply. Lets see now, moon dust… finer than anything on Earth, and grittier. So not only did it get into every nook and cranny on a body, but once there it started abrading the skin and just… better to get it off. Between that and the dust being electrically charged - _thank you, meteorites_ \- he’d have to make sure Jack was grounded, electrically speaking, before letting him touch anything sensitive. Easy enough, now that he thought about it.

“Alright,” he said, and pointed towards the washroom. “Go in there and wait for me.”

Aster watched as Jack dutifully, if sullenly, meandered down the hall to the indicated door. He turned to a nearby closet and rummaged around for a minute, before finding what he was looking for. Jack was immediately suspicious when Aster entered the washroom with it.

“ _What_ is _that_?”

“It’s a lightning rod.” Aster planted it in the ground, after clearing away a bit of the flooring so it’d go into dirt instead of tile. He could always put the tiles back. “The dust is electrically charged; that’s partially why it stuck to you so well. Speaking of which… how _did_ you get so thoroughly covered? Here, touch this now. There may be a slight spark.”

Jack glowered at the world, then grabbed the lightning rod and hissed at the static electricity. “Manny hugged me,” he whined. “Just up and jumped on me without warning, and it’s the _moon_. Gravity is _weird_ there. I fell over and he laughed at me and… just… he’s a jerk.”

After a moment, Aster gestured for Jack to let go of the rod. He reached out and tapped Jack on the nose, causing him to scrunch it up and sneeze, but no static. Good. He moved the rod out of the way and began fitting the tiles back in place, after turning on the water in the tub.

“One-sixth that of Earth’s, Jackie. Not that bad, really; my homeworld was half-again as strong as Earth. This is much nicer, though I have to exercise more to keep fit.”

Did… did Jack just look him over?

“Did you just add bubblebath?” Jack asked, sounding equal parts delighted and confused.

“Yes, that I did. Now, strip,” Aster replied, as he turned to fiddle with the bottles and add a few more chemicals to the mix. Lavender or chamomile….?

“Excuse me?” The Winter Spirit backed away from the lightning rod, and Aster, grabbing possessively at his sweater hem. “You- you did _not_ just say that.”

“That I did. Now, strip. It’s nothing I’ve not seen before. You humans and your modesty.” Aster shook his head in exasperation. “I saw your first ancestors roaming Africa. Did they bother with much in the way of clothing? No. I’ve seen it all. Now, _strip._ ”

“Oh, well, if it’s nothing special - have you _lost your mind_?”

“Fine, fine! I’ll turn my back while you get in the water! Happy?”

Jack flailed about with one hand, and then made strangling motions in Aster’s direction. “Fine,” he snapped. “Turn around.”

Aster sighed and did as he was asked. Nevertheless, he was easily able to keep track of Jack’s movements. Besides the distinctive sounds of cloth-against-skin, there was the dust to add noise. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “All of it.”

Jack started muttering, but tossed the last item of clothing onto the pile. “You’re a jerk.”

“Guess I’m in good company, _Jerk_ Frost. Now get in the water.”

“That wasn’t even remotely funny. Oh, no, it’s… warm. Why is it warm? What have I ever done do you to deserve warm water?”

“It’s lukewarm, _at best_ , and will adjust to your preference after a minute. Now, _get in_. Or do you want me to turn around and _make_ you?”

Jack hissed like a cranky cat, but there were splashing sounds and then the faint noises of a human getting comfortable - so to speak - in the water. “You can look,” he grumbled. “Though I don’t know why you’re sticking around.”

Aster turned, and had to pause. Jack was… very pale. Actually, rather aesthetically pleasing, all told. Lightly muscled, though the dust hid some of the definition. Still… impressive, for one of his build. Shaking his head at Jack’s antics, he grabbed a nearby hand towel and dunked it in the water. Jack was not prepared to be likewise dunked a moment later. He came up spluttering.

“Gotta get the dust off you, Frosty.” Scented bubbles slid down the side of Jack’s face, and then were wiped away with the wet cloth. Jack spluttered again, but kept his flailing discreet and not actually in Aster’s face. “And it’s hard enough to wash your own back.”

“This is awkward,” Jack grumbled, but stopped fidgeting. Just in time to be dunked again. He squawked, and fumed. “Okay, did you forget that I _drowned_? Are you _trying_ to trigger a flashback?”

“Nope. Just don’t give a rat’s arse. Least, not for this. I’ve got you, so you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. ‘Sides, if you hadn’t noticed, I used both hands to dunk you, and won’t let go. Now, turn a bit here, so I can get to your back easier.”

Jack did, his sulking easing to something a little less cranky. “That feels nice,” he offered, once Aster had wiped down his back a few times. “Why, um, why…?”

“Why what, Frostbite?” Aster replied softly, focused on his task.

“Why the scrub down? It’s just a little dust. I’ve gotten dirty before, it won’t kill me.”

“Would it kill you to accept some kindness? And here I thought we were getting all friend-like…!” Aster scoffed, momentarily pausing in his scrubbing.

Jack whined faintly. It was actually kind of adorable. “Friends don’t make friends take a bubblebath and be all demanding about it. At least, my friends don’t.” He paused, and added, “Loki wrapped me in a sleeping bag once, and tossed me down the stairs.”

Aster snorted. “Right. ‘Friend’, indeed. Can’t a bloke do ya a favor without complaint?”

“Hey, he made them into the bouncy, air-balloon type stairs first. And - yeah, okay, favor, very nice, but why do _you_ need to give _me_ a bath?” Jack squirmed, and twisted around to squint awkwardly at Aster. His scent, what wasn’t completely covered by the soap, was…

_Huh_.

Well, he was a young man, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.

And - well, that was interesting. If Aster wasn’t mistaken, Jack blushed frost, with very faint mauve beneath. That was different, but not unpleasant.

Aster tilted his head, ears perked inquiringly. “Does it matter? I wanted to. ‘Sides, it’s hard to get lunar dust off on your own. I would know.”

“It’s dust,” Jack grumbled, but didn’t fight a third dunking. “So, this is awkward.”

“How so?” Aster asked while reaching to the side for shampoo. He poured a liberal amount into the palm of his paw and lathered it up before applying it to Jack’s head.

Jack shuddered faintly as Aster scrubbed.

“W-well,” Jack said, and then made an incoherent sound that was probably pleasure. “Uh. It’s the, um, washing thing? It’s- and oh that feels good, actually.”

“Exactly. Stop worrying so much. I’m good with my hands. If you’re _really_ good, I may show you my massage technique later on.”

Jack shuddered, and Aster smirked. It was probably not very nice to tease a bloke when he was like this, but considering all the times his _Guard_ had snuck up on him and scared him out of a few centuries, or pranked him, or otherwise drove Aster to incoherent fury, well. He wouldn’t cross the line, but a bit of teasing was perfectly within reasonable boundaries.

Especially when he played oblivious.

“Cold, Frostbite?” he asked innocently when Jack shuddered again. He’d brought his blunt claws out now; seems the sprite liked that, by the spike in his pheromones. _Shouldn’t let this get any further out of hand, though_.

“A-are you joking?” Jack must have rolled his eyes; his head tilted slightly. “No. It just, um, tickles. Yeah. That’s- tickling is mean, Bunny. Against the Geneva Conventions.”

“Does it?” Tone light, Aster retracted his claws. Was that a whimper? “So. I’ve been meaning to ask you, since you mentioned it last week. What’s with this ‘sensing me’ thing you mentioned?”

Jack stiffened, and then deliberately relaxed his shoulders. “Oh, that. It’s something everyone develops, in relation to their Charge. Lets us know where you are, generally. Sometimes if you’re in danger, though that’s spotty - once I thought you were _dying violently_ and instead I showed up and found you had a _papercut_ , and I didn’t get anything about the _vargr_.”

“Does it have something to do with distance… or maybe sympathetic magic….” Aster trailed off, humming in thought.

“Oh, well, there’s a few theories. Distance doesn’t seem to have anything to do with it.” Jack paused, and then twisted around so he could smirk at Aster. “You need to see Quetza at it sometimes. The guy flutters. It’s hilarious.”

Aster blinked. “Flutters?”

“He’s a winged snake when he’s not Mr. Hardbody,” Jack said. “And yeah. Flutters. ‘Oh no she’s gone out, why is she in…’ wherever she’s gone to pick up teeth. And then he looks all fretful.” He shook his head.

“How… amusing.” And faintly creepy. “What’s it feel like?”

“Like an itch under my skin if you’re in trouble. Killer papercuts…. You know, that kind of itch where it’s in the muscle, not the skin, so it doesn’t matter if you scratch yourself bloody you’re still going to be all itchy?”

Aster nodded. “That’d get annoying after a while.”

“Well, maybe if you stopped getting in trouble…” Jack sing-songed as he turned back around at Aster’s urging.

“Shut up. Not my fault.”

“Sure it’s not, fluffy-butt.”

Aster lightly raked his claws back across Jack’s scalp in revenge.

And then Jack made a sound that properly belonged in a certain kind of movie, right before yelping and ducking under the water.

_Huh. That’s an interesting reaction. I should probably stop with the claws then. That’s a bit much, even for teasing._

Jack came up, glaring and with the water freezing on his skin. “Out,” he said, and pointed at the door.

Aster knew he was in for it now. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Why? Arousal’s nothing to be ashamed of, though your pheromones are getting particularly strong right now-”

“Out!” Jack roared, and hefted a ball of blue ice warningly. The frost on his cheeks ran swiftly down his neck and chest.

Aster laughed as he dashed out of the washroom, calling back behind him, “The towels are in the closet on the left!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "If you'll note, in the movie, the Guardians never did ask if Jack wanted to be one of them. Sure, he went with it, but... we're not being that nice."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Bath time!~"


	13. Chapter 13

**Friday, 6 July 2012 -- Warren, late afternoon**

“Kern, if you don’t stop laughing, I’m going to ice your balls off!” Jack just knew he was purple from hairline to navel, and Kern’s mockery wasn’t helping.

“But- but-” Kern sputtered, laughing and rolling on the ground next to the log where they’d been reclining. “He gave you a _bath_!”

“Shut up!” Jack tossed a handful of ice flakes at his idiot friend.

“So, what happened after he dunked you?” Kern asked after he finally calmed down enough, though he was still chuckling lightly. He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.

Jack folded his arms and sulked, fully justified. “He _washed_ my hair.”

Kern’s eyes widened. “With or without claws? Wait, he has claws right? Not nails?”

“Retractable claws. And, uh, a little of column A, bit of column B.”

“Did you- did you do the ‘thing’?” Kern bit his lip as he asked, trying to remain composed.

Jack scowled, and then his expression shifted to something more mischievous. Sometimes he hated how Kern used their former relationship in his teasing, but sometimes it had advantages, too…

“Kern,” he said, and dropped his voice down an octave. “Have you ever known me _not_ to make the sound when someone’s scratching through my hair?”

Kern froze, gazing at Jack wide-eyed. His loincloth may have shifted a bit too.

“Jaaack!” Kern whined. “Not fair!”

“What do you mean?” he asked, playing up the ‘innocent’ card for all that he had.

Kern shifted how he was sitting and blatantly adjusted himself, not bothering to hide what Jack’s ‘bedroom’ voice did to him. “You suck.” He brightened a moment later though. “So you _did_ make that sound. Did he even know what he was doing to you?”

“He mentioned _pheromones_ ,” Jack said, dropping both ‘the voice’ and pretend innocence. “I chased him out after that.”

“Oh, you poor boy, to be teased by your Aster so!”

Jack glowered at Kern again. “Hey, it was even more titillating than anything _you_ ever did,” he pointed out. “After all, we were just friends with benefits, while I lo-”

The rest of Jack’s words were muffled by Kern’s hand suddenly just _appearing_ over his mouth. Before he could managed to growl, bite, or lick, Kern said, “Oh, _heeey_ Bunnymund! What brings you here?”

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


Where in the world was Jack hiding?

He’d _said_ that there was going to be a meeting in the Warren in an hour. Hour was nearly up, and no sign of his supposed ‘guardian.’

Aster harrumphed, and rounded another bend in the trail. He thought he’d scented a bit of cervine musk a moment ago, so perhaps Kern was up here somewhere. Surely he’d know where Jack was?

The overgrown deer came into view, and it was rather obvious Aster wouldn’t have to ask about where Jack was. He was sitting next to Kern, looking vaguely annoyed.

“- with benefits, while I lo-”

Kern slapped a hand over Jack’s mouth, cutting off whatever he was saying as he greeted Aster, entirely too smoothly. Immediately suspicious, Aster glared at Kern, and then curled his upper lip briefly, like a tiger showing its teeth.

Jack spun around, Kern’s hand dropping from his mouth as the cervid yelped - did Jack just _bite_ his hand? - and stared at Aster wide-eyed.

“Oh, hey Bunny. Um, something up?” Jack inquired, voice a tad too innocent to not go unnoticed, though the slight panic in his scent was interesting, in contrast.

Aster narrowed his eyes, and stalked forward. “Thought there was supposed to be a meeting, mate,” he said, and then glared at Kern. After far too long of a moment, the idiot deer got the message and shuffled to the side, putting inches between him and Jack. “‘Bout time for it, _yeah_?”

“Huh? Oh. Oh! Um, yeah. It is? Of course it is! Otherwise you wouldn’t have sought me out - _and would you stop glaring_? I’m coming, I’m coming!” Jack somehow managed a backflip over the log, snagging his staff as he went and landed gracefully in front of Aster. “Lead the way, Cottontail!”

Aster paused in his ire and gave Jack a somewhat disbelieving look. “Don’t you have a _spine_ , Frostbite?”

“No,” Kern and Jack replied in the same instant, Kern flashing a grin at Jack’s back, while the sprite just rolled his eyes in exasperation. Jack gave Aster a ‘what can you do’ look and shrugged.

The Pooka grunted, and glared at Kern again. Bloody idiot old god… didn’t know how to use what was between his ears ‘cause he spent all his time dwelling on what was between his legs.

“Right,” he muttered, and urged Jack towards the spot he’d designated as the meeting spot. And not so incidentally, away from Kern.

When they were out of earshot of the idiot, Aster asked, “Does he ever not think about sex?”

“Depends on if he’s conscious or not,” Jack muttered back.

Aster snorted. “Bloody old gods.”

“Hey, he’s kept up with the times alright. He’s not that old, unlike _some…_ ” Jack smirked at him. “Is that some gray hair I see, Fluffy?”

Aster turned a glare on Jack and mimed a swing at his head. “Oi! I was born this color, I’ll have you know!”

“There’s some animal-safe hair dye out there, if you’re interested.”

“Why I oughta-”

“Ought to what, Bunny?” Tooth asked as they came into earshot of the clearing he’d designated for the meeting. Far enough from his burrow for privacy, but not too far for him to walk, after.

“Oh, never mind. Blighter’s just being a pain in the neck.” He tapped Jack upside the back of the head with one paw, and huffed in irritation. Hair dye _indeed_.

He watched as Jack moved about the clearing and greeted everyone properly, dodging a bear hug from North quite deftly. Aster double checked that there was enough seating and realized he was one short.

“Well, shit. I forgot a bloody chair. I’ll be back in a tic.”

Jack lifted his head like a hound catching a scent. “No, no,” he said, and planted his staff between two of the chairs. “I’ll just perch, don’t worry about it.”

And then the lithe little annoyance hopped up on his staff and clung with just his _toes_.

He’d done it before, Aster _knew_ that - he could remember each instance well enough. But this was the first time he’d actually paid attention, other than to get annoyed at how the young man was defying gravity. Now, he noticed the way those long, slender toes curled around the weathered curve of wood, and how Jack’s heels sunk down a touch, and oh yes, he had a nice view of how _clean_ Jack kept his feet, too. His toenails were actually better than his fingernails, being clipped to a reasonable length and actually buffed to a shine.

Aster made himself look away, and shrugged. “Suit yourself, Frostbite.”

And he thanked El-Ahrairah that he had a sheath right then, because damn his libido for choosing that _exact_ moment to remind him of his little ‘thing’ for feet.

Jack seemed oblivious, thankfully, although Sandy gave him a knowing look.

Double damn.

“So we’re gathered here today,” Jack said, and then smirked. “Kern’s getting hitched!”

“I- what?” Aster sputtered. “Kern- what?”

Of course, his reaction was nothing to Kern’s. The damn idiot charged forward, eyes so wide it was possible to see the whites all the way around. “What?” he bellowed, looking panicked. “What do you mean, _hitched_?”

Jack’s snicker was evil enough to put Pitch Black to shame. “Weyland came up with a way to make you monogamous!” he chirped. “And now that you’ve fallen into the trap…” He waggled his eyebrows.

Kern’s bellow was loud enough to deafen anyone with working ears, and quite a few without. Aster winced.

“But how do I tell Raijin and Izanami?” Kern whined, as he bemoaned the situation.

“That’s okay, they’re invited to the wedding. You and Bhauma. It’ll be a perfect pairing, don’t you think?”

Aster rolled his eyes, and then snorted. Kern, Raijin, and Izanami - weren’t the last two the Shepherds assigned to him? No wonder Jack was always handling trouble on his own. His so-called helpers were too busy getting their _pipes snaked_ by the sex-obsessed _deer_.

Kern threatened Jack with his horns. “If I didn’t know you were joking,” he growled.

“Oh, belt up,” Aster muttered, and sat down. “What the hell’s so bad about monogamy, anyways?”

Oh, he did _not_ like the way everyone blinked and stared at him, Jack and Kern more than his fellow Guardians. He glared back. “Just because I look like a rabbit doesn’t make me one,” he snapped. “Pooka were rather more monogamous than humans, thanks very much.”

Well, loyal, anyways. Although Pooka did have more instances of triads and quartets than humans did, and less squinting over it all. Depended on the population density, too, and how many bucks and does were in a settlement, and all sorts of things.

Ah, well. Not that it mattered anymore.

He resolutely ignored the pang of regret that flashed through him.

It got easier when he overheard Jack mutter to Kern “I win that bet,” and Kern mutter back “six-fifty and change.” Jack figured he’d be monogamous? Well, that was something, at least.

“If yer dog’n pony show’s over with, ya bloody show pony, maybe we can get on with the real reason we asked everyone over?” Aster gestured to the rest of the chairs, and then quirked one eyebrow at the Guardians. It took a minute to realize he’d just used a Jack-like expression, and he swallowed down a groan.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have invited Jack to live with him, after all… but no turning back. That would be improper, and his mother would have _killed_ him if he’d done something like that back home.

North was the first to sit down, followed by all of the other guests. Phil looked blander than plain toast and weak tea, and sat beside his Charge. Sandy floated over his chair, with a faint purple light floating over his shoulder. Tooth gave Quetza a wary look, but the serpent - currently in his half-human form - just curled up around the seat next to hers without comment, ‘straddling’ it backwards and resting his folded arms against the high back.

“Right then,” Aster said, and looked over at Jack.

Jack flexed his toes and bobbed in place lightly as he rolled his shoulders. A soft crack resounded through the clearing before Jack spoke.

“Aaah. Better. So! Yes, um… where should I start? Oh, right. So, have you guys been told WINTER has access to the Moon? Like, we can go up there more or less at will?”

North looked terrifyingly enthusiastic. “Oh! I would like to make a visit with Manny. Would be nice to speak in person instead of through crystals!”

Jack looked sour. “Just be wary of that guy’s hugs,” he cautioned.

Kern snickered. For once, Aster agreed with him.

Jack’s glare was directed equally at his fellow Agent and his Charge, and then he seemed to elect to ignore them. “Manny noticed something weird and sounded the alert,” he said. “Called in Grandpappy Frost. Then I got volun-told to go up with Odin and… anyways, long story short, something nasty’s woken up.”

Volun-told? That was a new one, though it made an odd sort of sense. “Stop making up words, ya drongo. So, do you lot know what it is?”

“No, Manny was less than helpful there. All anyone can tell is that it’s somewhere in eastern Europe, and growing fast.” Jack made a face. “The analysts are looking into it. He sent down some paperwork of some kind. Anika is looking at it.”

“So why would you bring this to us?” Tooth asked, before shaking her head. “Never mind. This is going to go after mortals, won’t it? The children.”

“Well, maybe not just the children, but still. You Guardians need to keep a lookout, and your mini-fairies, and Sandy, are all over the world every day. We want them to keep a lookout. And report to WINTER if they see anything.”

“Yes, yes,” North agreed, and then eyed Jack oddly. “You, not we? But Jack, you are Guardian too!”

Aster quirked an eyebrow - _Gah! Stop that!_ \- and gave Jack a questioning look.

Jack, for his part, looked unusually serious, and somewhat annoyed. “No, I got _volun-told_. Instead of, say, _asked_?” He shook his head. “Not the point. Point is, you guys could be a target. One of those ‘hit the opponents before they know there’s an enemy around’ kind of deals.”

“And the readouts, from what I hear, were most definitely _not_ pretty,” Kern added. “And powerful.”

Sounded ominous. “But no ideas as to what it could be,” Aster said.

“Not yet,” Jack said, and shrugged. “But WINTER’s Intelligence department is the best at what it does. We should know shortly.”

“Maybe a week. Two, tops,” Kern chimed in. “I’ve never seen it take longer than that. Usually much less, but it depends on how good the threat is at hiding.”

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Monday, 16 July 2012 -- Warren, mid-day**

Jack looked between Bunny and the plate of fake-Chinese and back again. The rabbit needed to eat; but last time Jack had mentioned lunch he’d gotten snarled at. And not exactly in the playful way he’d gotten used to. Nope, that had been a true blue blast from the past, and it hadn’t exactly been a fun experience. But if Aster skipped a meal… he’d just get crankier.

_Decisions, decisions…_

Hey, just how distracted was Bunny, anyways?

“So, Frostbite. A question for ya,” Bunny asked absently, his drawl a bit more pronounced from the apparent effort concentrating on his painting took.

Jack stopped contemplating the food, and stepped closer. “Yeah?”

“Well,” Aster paused for a long moment, focusing on a tiny detail on the giant canvas he was painting a vivid landscape scene on from memory. “You’ve shown me the facilities and such around your headquarters, but what’s the training actually like?”

Jack picked up a wonton, just a bit of vegetable inside the fried… pastry? Bread? Cracker? He’d never quite been sure what the wonton actually _was_ , really. Easy to pick up, at least, which served his purposes nicely. He broke off a small bit, and then held the piece to Bunny’s mouth. The Pooka ate it without, apparently, noticing.

“Boring,” Jack said, and got another piece of wonton. Bunny ate that one, too, entirely focused on the canvas. “I mean, at least half of it’s lecture after lecture, just listening to people talking. And the other half is drilling. I got out of most of it ‘cause of my power level and ‘cause Kern offered to teach me on the job.”

Bunny grunted sourly at the mention of Kern. Jack was still curious why he’d taken such a dislike to the Knight, but who could say?

“How’d that go?” he asked after automatically chewing and swallowing another bite.

“Kind of weird, actually,” Jack admitted. He’d been… technically in charge. But without a clue of what he was doing. The closest comparison he’d ever come to was something like a fresh-from-graduate-school ranking officer leaning, heavily, on his more experienced subordinate. Of course, Jack had picked up the important bits pretty fast, and the rest was mostly just theory.

Mostly.

Ah, whatever, he didn’t have the mindset or the right kind of magic to be a powerhouse when it came to spells and wardings and stuff, anyways.

Jack mentioned a few choice snippets from his ‘training’, if it could be called that, while continuing to feed Aster the whole of the wonton.

Aster chewed absently, in thought for a long moment. Jack almost thought he’d finally registered what was going on, but then he swallowed, leaned towards the canvas for a moment as he painted a tiny detail, and then sighed.

“So, about what I expected, coming from that bugger,” he grumbled.

“Be nice to Kern.” Jack considered his options, and then picked up an egg roll. Just a bit messier than the wontons…. By a lot. It’d also been sitting next to the sweet-and-sour sauce, and some had dribbled onto the roll.

Still, in for a penny, in for a pound. Jack lifted up the egg roll, ignored the sauce dripping down his fingers, and held it to Bunny’s lips.

Bunny nibbled at it, slowly, over the course of a couple minutes, the two of them falling into a companionable silence. Jack was pretty sure Bunny still wasn’t aware he was _actually_ eating, but maybe he’d just decided to take advantage of the situation?

And then Bunny licked one of his fingers.

Jack squeaked, and almost dropped the remains of the egg roll. He didn’t, because that’d make a mess, and Bunny might notice, but - licking! Fingers! His fingers!

He had no idea if he wanted to sink through the ground in embarrassment… or do a victory dance.

Bunny continued licking his finger, moving on to the next one when the first was clean. Jack suppressed another squeak, while trying desperately not to focus on the sensation.

But then Bunny sucked the tip of one finger into his mouth.

Jack blushed, face suddenly very warm and pants far too tight.

After a long moment, Aster paused, eyes widening ever so slightly.

_Uh oh._

Bunny pulled back slowly, Jack’s finger popping loudly as it left his mouth. The Pooka carefully stepped to the side and set down his palette and brush, before dipping his fingers into a small bowl of clear water and drying them off. He then turned slowly, bringing his bright green eyes to rest on Jack’s. Were they dilated a little bit?

Jack squeaked.

“Frostbite?” Bunny asked mildly.

“Um, yes?”

“Were you feeding me?”

“You needed to eat.”

“By _hand_?”

Jack carefully set the plate to one side. “Maybe?”

Bunny gave him a long, slow once over. Jack flushed again when the Pooka sniffed the air and gave him a _look_. “I see. Well, there’s nothing for it then...”

Jack’s eyes widened, and he backed up a step. “Now, Bunny, don’t be that way… you weren’t leaving your painting for anything and you _know_ you get cranky when you skip meals-”

“Jack.” Bunny’s no nonsense tone cut off Jack’s rambling mid-sentence. “Run.”

Good advice! Jack turned and bolted.

 _And_ left his staff in the kitchen because he was an _idiot_.

It was half a minute before Bunny caught him, tackling him around the waist as they fell and rolled down a steep embankment, splashed through a shallow tributary of the Coloring River - incidentally getting them both splattered in a riot of color, not that Jack noticed immediately - and onto the far bank.

“Gotcha, ya crazy boofhead.”

Jack yelled and shoved at Bunny’s shoulder, rolling in the opposite direction.

Or _trying_ , anyways.

He managed to get one arm free, and one leg, which was enough. He _twisted_ , grabbing onto one of Bunny’s shoulders, and shoved with his foot, prying the one paw off of him in the last moment.

Bunny flopped backwards, into the creek.

Jack bolted again.

He didn’t get far.

Three hundred pounds of fur and muscle landed on his back, driving him face first into the multi-colored mud. He spat out a mouthful of the stuff, and twisted.

He was only half-successful this time. He got turned over, so he was on his back, but Bunny wasn’t dislodged. Ergo, he had a large rabbit sitting on his stomach, pinning him.

However, right before he executed his next maneuver, Bunny gave him an odd look, and then started laughing. The vibrations from Bunny’s chest were doing funny things to his libido, though.

“W-what?” Jack shoved at one furry thigh, and then blushed all over again. Wow. Muscles. That was… interesting and _not at all relevant at the moment, Jack_! “Stop laughing, Fluffy-butt, and get off me! I can’t breathe!”

Bunny, laughter reduced to low chuckling, obliged Jack by leaning up on his - strong, _amazing_ \- arms and smiling down at him through his multicolored fur. “You’re a right silly larrikin, is what you are, Jackie.”

“Hey! … Don’t insult me with words I don’t know!”

“It’s not an insult - well, yes, it is - but not a bad one. Means ‘harmless prankster’, ya cheeky brat.”

Bunny’s smile right then was-

Jack swallowed, and prayed to anyone and everyone that Bunny didn’t lean back, or look at Jack’s lap, or anything even remotely similar to either possibility. “Bunny?”

“Yes?” he asked, and then shifted, his thigh brushing too close to - _shit_.

Bunny’s eyes widened minutely right before his ears dropped in embarrassment.

Jack gulped. “Um, are you, uh, very angry with me?”

“Um… no. No, I don’t think so. Would… would you like me to get up?”

“That is probably a good idea, yeah,” Jack admitted. “Um, I think I need a bath…”

The Pooka settled back on his haunches and made a show of respecting Jack’s privacy as he provided a helping hand to stand. “We both do, at that. And neither of us can let this paint settle in… and I only have one tub.”

“That’s okay, I’ll duck up to WINTER HQ,” Jack said. It felt like his face was about to burst into flame. “You, um, you eat, and I’ll just… go…”

“Don’t want me to, ah, help you with the bath again?” Bunny’s nose was a brighter shade than normal - was he blushing _too_? “I mean, there’s some pretty heavy paint on your back-”

“No! No, no, no, it’ll be fine, no, don’t put yourself out, I’ll get Kern to help me, or Quetza, yeah, Quetza’s very helpful like that and I’ll just… go. Now. Don’t forget to eat!”

“I won’t,” Bunny said, and then coughed into his fist. “Will ya be back for supper?”

Jack nodded frantically, and then bolted for his access to HQ. Maybe if he spent long enough in the showers, he’d stop feeling like he was about to combust from embarrassment.

And maybe he’d feel confident enough to join the world again.

_Oh god, when Kern finds out, I’m so dying of embarrassment._

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Monday, 16 July 2012 -- Warren, evening**

Aster looked up from the tome he was reading and was about to chastise Jack for being late when he saw the sprite stumble slightly on the doorstep. “Ya right, cobber?”

Jack paused, his face wrinkling up in confusion. “You made cobbler? What kind?”

“Cobber, not cobbler. Though there is some apple cobbler left in the icebox, as I recall. Means ‘friend’, Jack. What happened? You look absolutely stuffed.”

Jack turned and immediately vanished from sight, presumably rummaging in the icebox for the mentioned treat. “Training,” he called, slurring a touch. “And I wasn’t fed, so I’m not stuffed.”

Aster sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yanks. No, I mean you look tired. I thought you were just going up for a shower and then you’d be right back down?”

“That’s what _I_ thought,” Jack said, and shuffled back into view. He had the whole of the apple cobbler on one plate, so… three slices worth. He wasn’t using a fork, either, just breaking pieces off and popping them in his mouth with his fingers. Aster absolutely didn’t stare, not even a little bit.

“The shower was fine,” Jack mumbled. He sat down on the couch beside Aster. “Though Quetza tried to join me. Dork forgot how cold I like my water.”

Aster snorted a laugh. That was - unexpected, to say the least, though on reflection he wasn’t surprised that snake tried to join Jack. He’d been suspiciously handsy with just about every guy he’d seen the serpent around.

“Anyways,” Jack said, and popped an apple piece in his mouth. “Thor showed up just as I got the last of the paint off. Shanghaied me into training with him.” He paused in his eating, and gave Aster a sad look. “I hurt.”

“Trains hard, does he?” Aster said, while wondering when Jack would notice the little bit of sauce on his lip. He set his book to the side and leaned forward, clasping his paws between his knees.

“Ouch,” Jack agreed. “Lots of ouch. I took another shower before coming back.”

Aster absolutely did not stare when Jack’s tongue peaked out to clean his lip. Shaking himself, he asked, “So, do you want anything else besides the leftover cobbler?”

Jack looked down at his plate, which was already closer to empty than full, and shrugged. “Sleep?” he suggested. “‘m really tired. Thor’s mean. He-” he paused to yawn. “He threw me around the room like that hammer of his.”

Jack set his plate on the coffee table and stood.

Or tried to.

He staggered once he was upright, and began tipping forwards. Aster all but leapt to his feet to catch the WINTER agent before he did a faceplant, and pulled him to the side, to rest against Aster.

“Would you like some help getting to your room?” he asked softly as he righted the sprite.

“... Maybe?” Jack mumbled. He rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his knuckles, and made a sleepy, indistinct sound.

“Right. Off we go then. Watch your footing.”

Aster guided Jack into his room, which took about three times as longer to get down the hall as the usual, and gently maneuvered him around the footboard.

Jack tripped over the edge of the rug and sent them both sprawling.

Somehow, Aster ended up laying on Jack’s bed, on his back, with Jack splayed across his chest.

“Jack?” he murmured, but the deep, heavy breathing told the whole story. Jack was out, and though he made a sound in reply, he wasn’t waking up, either.

Aster shifted, trying to move out from under the sprite, but Jack gripped his fur tighter and whined faintly.

Oh. Well then. One bed was as good as any other, he supposed, and who was he to disturb Jack’s sleep? Aster made himself comfortable, and brushed the pads of his fingers over Jack’s hair.

He had to wonder what Jack’s reaction would be when he woke up. Complimentary, he suspected - and loud. Probably going to be very loud.

Aster smiled, and wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders. Be interesting whatever the reaction was. Very interesting indeed.

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Tuesday, 17 July 2012 -- Warren, early morning**

Jack woke slowly, surrounded by warmth. He nuzzled the fur beneath his cheek slightly, and sighed contentedly.

Wait...

Fur?

Jack wrinkled his nose, and then a sudden forebodingshot through him and jolted him to abrupt wakefulness, like a blast from one of Thor’s lightning bolts.

Fur. And warmth. And…

Jack squeaked, flailed, and fell backwards out of the bed.

A second or two later, Bunny leaned over the side of the bed and stared down at him, looking just as sleep-befuddled as Jack had felt before - well, before! Jack closed his eyes and waited for the explosion.

Oh, _why_ couldn’t he have glommed onto Kern for night-time cuddles?

After a few moments, Jack cracked one eye open to see - was Bunny smiling at him? What the…?

“Bunny?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“Did I, um….” Oh, _how_ did he phrase this? “Did I…?”

“Sleep on top of me and cling like a limpet?”

“That’s… a good way of putting it, yes…”

Bunny nodded, grin turning playful. “That you did, mate.”

Jack twitched, and covered his face with both hands. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and thumped his head back against the floor.

Bunny shifted and stretched before responding. Jack _did not_ mind. _At all_.

“Never you mind, Jackie. You were extremely knackered and I’m honestly surprised you made it back here, with as tired as you were. Though it was kind of funny how you tripping over the rug turned into us sleeping together. Why don’t you go wash up and I’ll make brekkies?”

That… didn't sound bad, actually. Jack nodded, and got to his feet, every aching muscle protesting the activity. He stretched, yawned, and scratched his stomach through his shirt. “Right,” he said, and turned towards the washroom. “Hey, Bunny?”

The Pooka paused on his way out the door, glancing at Jack out of the corner of his eye and turning an ear towards him. “Yes?”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Snowflake.”

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Tuesday, 17 July 2012 -- Warren, morning**

“Bunny, no.”

“Try it.”

“No.”

“I know it’s an acquired taste, but I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“No.”

“Please, Snowflake?”

Jack paused. _Snowflake?_ “Fine.”

Jack started spreading the vegemite on his slice of freshly-baked damper, more to cover up his internal squealing than anything else. Bunny had a nickname for him? A… dare he think it, a _pet name_?

Aster smiled at him, and then stole the jar of vegemite once Jack was finished with it. He applied the breakfast spread much more liberally on his bread than Jack had, and then bit in with every evidence of enjoyment.

Jack regarded his bread dubiously. The pet name - oh wow, Polaris above, Bunny had a pet name for him! - had gotten the vegemite on the food, but he wasn’t so sure it’d get the stuff in his stomach.

Still… Bunny seemed to be enjoying himself. Jack took a cautious nibble.

Wow. For something that looked and smelt like a dried soup mix, it… well, yeah, okay, it was a very strong taste.

Bunny favored Jack with an inquiring look, including a quirked eyebrow.

_Y’know, he didn’t do that before…._

“Well, Frostbite? Whatcha think?”

“It won’t kill me,” Jack allowed. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve eaten stuff Kern’s made that tasted better.”

Bunny scowled at his bread and took a bite a bit more viciously than Jack expected. _Maybe I should stop mentioning Kern so casually…._

Jack glanced to the side plate the Pooka had served him alongside the bread, some leaves that smelled very citrus-y. What had he called the dish again?

“What do you mean, won’t kill you?” Bunny asked, and ducked his head just enough to stare at Jack from under his eyebrows. “What’s wrong with my cooking, mate?”

“Nothing! Nothing, it’s just… um, strong?” _Very_ strong. And not much like the meals Jack was used to, honestly. WINTER served something of a multi-cultural mish-mash of quasi-fast food and fake ‘national’ dishes, which were really more like the standard American knock-off fare. “Bunny, what did you call this leaf thing again?”

“ _Backhousia citriodora_. Lemon myrtle. It’s common bush tucker, thought I’d give it a burl for brekkies, see what you thought,” he replied easily as he took a bite of the aforementioned leaf.

Jack stared at his plate, and then mentally shrugged. And took a bite. It… wasn’t bad. Just kind of different. He wasn’t sure if the lemon was scent or taste; it was probably a good thing he’d never had too much trouble with lemon-taste. They could be a bit sour. This was sour-sweet, which must have been because of how they’d been cooked.

“It’s okay,” he said. Bunny scowled at him some more.

“Only okay?”

“What’s wrong with pancakes or oatmeal for breakfast?” Jack asked, a touch plaintively. “Mom used to make the best flapjacks our side of the Atlantic, and Dad’s oatmeal stuck to the ribs so good, you didn’t get hungry until dinner.”

Bunny quirked an eyebrow. Jack squealed a little inside - he was definitely picking up Jack’s mannerisms!

Wait, did that mean Jack was picking up Bunny’s habits?

If he tried scratching behind the ear with one foot, _ever_ , he was going to stop avoiding the WINTER therapists and book himself for marathon sessions.

“Well, I don’t suppose you remember the recipes?” he inquired politely, interest carefully hidden, though Jack caught in nonetheless.

“Yeah,” Jack said slowly. “Sure. Why?”

“Write ‘em down for me when you can. I’ll give them a burl sometime, just for you.” Bunny smiled.

Jack grinned at the thought of proper oatmeal for breakfast, and forgot about the vegemite, right up until he took another bite of his bread.

A big bite. Full mouthful. And it’d be rude to spit it out.

_Argh…_

A strange tinkling sound echoed throughout the burrow. Jack looked a question at the Pooka, who instantly appeared alert.

“Aurora. I can’t see it inside, so I set up a small ward. What’s that blasted drongo goin’ on ‘bout now?”

“Clever,” Jack murmured, and happily abandoned his breakfast. “Let’s go see.”

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Monday, 16 July 2012 -- Workshop, North Pole, evening**

Jack paused when he saw the WINTER Agent waiting with North. Edwin was studying an elf, and getting eyeballed back in turn. As usual, the intelligence agent looked innocently befuddled, more like an obsessed bookworm pulled out of the library and into the unfamiliar sunshine.

His pause lasted less than half a step, and then he continued up the stairs to the platform overlooking the big globe. “Hey Phil,” he said, and waved one hand at the Knight. “When’d Edwin get in?”

Phil just grimaced and shook his head, gesturing at North and the intelligence agent wordlessly.

“That good, huh?”

Bunny grunted sourly behind him. “What’d’ya have to interrupt brekkies for?”

Phil’s confused look said it all, at least until Jack muttered, “Australian time.” Even so, it still took a moment, before the yeti began to grin and chuckle.

“Never mind, Bunny. C’mon. We’ll be last if we don’t hurry. I don’t want Edwin to spread that sort of gossip.”

“Who the bloody hell is Edwin?”

Jack raised his eyebrows, and jogged up the stairs. “You’ll see,” he said, and then saluted the agent with his staff. “Ed! Good to see you!”

The agent looked up. Rumor had it he was a Kitsune who preferred human shape, but rumor also had it he was Odin in disguise, Mother Nature’s only son, Jesus, and Elvis after a major diet and the loss of something like a foot in height and complete facial restructuring. Jack wasn’t putting much stock in rumor.

“Oh,” Edwin said. He squinted at Jack, tilted his head, and then his entire expression brightened in realization. “It’s you. Hello, Frost.”

Jack looked over at North. Poor man looked like he couldn’t decide between confused, protective, and stunned. Before Jack could say anything, Tooth flit in through the skylight, Sandy hot on her heels.

“North! What’s wrong?” she asked hurriedly, before rattling off several instructions to nearby mini-fairies that seemed to appear from nowhere. Baby Tooth dashed over and all-but slammed into Jack’s chest.

“Hey, Baby Tooth. Quetza minding the store while you keep an eye on mama-bird?” Jack asked.

She twittered at him happily as she nodded, asking if they’d had time to finish breakfast. She apparently knew when Bunny liked to get started with his day.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Food, it’s great.” Jack moved Baby Tooth over to his shoulder, and then nodded at Edwin. “Hey, Ed, we’re here.”

“You are?” The man blinked at the group, then pulled out a pair of heavy glasses - really, they were the stereotypical image for ‘coke bottle lenses’ - and put them on. “Oh, so you are. Hello.”

Jack waited, and then, when Edwin didn’t continue, sighed. Right. This. How could he have forgotten?

_Wishful thinking is how…_

“Ed,” he said, slow and gentle. “Did you call us with the Aurora?”

“No,” the agent said, looking confused. “Mr. St. North did.”

“Will someone just explain what the bleeding hell is going on?” Bunny exclaimed in exasperation, arms gesticulating wildly to emphasise his point.

Jack grinned wryly at his Charge. “Ed, why did North use the Aurora? Because you told him to?” He waited for the nod, before he continued. “Because you have something to tell us?” Another nod. “Why don’t you tell us then.”

Edwin nodded a third time, and then looked around the group again. “Oh, you’re the Guardians of Childhood, aren’t you? Good to see you, very good. I suppose you know about Giltine, yes?”

Jack reached up, and very deliberately, grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked. “No, Edwin. We don’t know about a ‘Giltine’. Who’s that?”

Edwin hummed. “Oh. She’s Lithuanian, so you’d think she’d have faded away like a sensible deity when her people stopped existing. Also known as Maras, Kolera, or just the Goddess of Death, you know how it is. Some of them are quite pleasant to be around, quite nice chaps and… ladies? But some of them you wouldn’t want to touch with a fifty foot barge pole, because just breathing in their general vicinity is apparently quite rude and grounds for evisceration. Why is that?”

He stopped talking, and just looked confused.

“Because they’re jerks, Edwin. Giltine?”

Bunny leaned over and whispered, “What’s his deal? He acts like he has a few ‘roos loose in the top paddock.”

“Funny,” Jack muttered back. “He doesn’t remind me of you at all.”

Bunny had the grace to look offended, but didn’t say anything else for the moment. He did cross his arms across his chest and huff though, ears twitching in irritation.

Edwin smiled at Jack, and continued once the whispered exchange ended. If someone hadn’t known better, Jack thought, they might have thought Edwin had overheard Bunny, and had waited politely for the distraction to end.

“Oh. She woke up, that’s all. Started a cholera outbreak in Belarus. And… the Ukraine. Lots of death, dying, suffering… the general nonsense when a Goddess of Death decides to be annoyed at the world.”

“Cholera? But they have medicine enough to handle that now, don’t they?” Bunny asked, dropping his arms from his chest to gesture weakly.

Edwin shrugged, looking befuddled again. “Not hers, it would seem.”

“What can we do? Why bring to us in first place?” North asked, bewilderment evident in his tone.

The agent shrugged again, and spread his hands. “Oh. I don’t know. Somebody just left orders for you to be notified when we had information on Manny’s premonition.”

Jack raised one hand, the other cradling his head. “That was me,” he said. “I wanted us to get a copy of the report. Edwin, is there anything else?”

“Oh, that one fellow, what’s his name, he wears a lot of black leather?”

“Odin,” Jack supplied, hand not moving away from his face.

“Yes, him. He said to tell you that the hole in your office is repaired and Thor is grounded and very sorry for throwing you through the wall.” Edwin paused, and looked plaintive. “Do you need me to tell you what he swore by?”

“No, thank you Edwin. Did you have anything for me to look at?”

“No, no, just what I’ve told you already.” The agent looked around. “Does this place have a library?”

Jack sighed and gestured to the side. “Yes, yes. Over that way.”

As Edwin happily meandered off to peruse North’s offerings, Jack pulled out his earbud and put it in. He radioed for some additional statistics, and then blanched.

“Jackie?”

Taking a deep breath, Jack turned to the rest of the group. “Giltine’s cholera bacteria seem to be especially virulent… amongst children.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "I'm holding a contest. Anyone who cares to can guess who and what Edwin is. If you hit, or if you're the closest, I'll write a one-shot based on a prompt you send me. Contest goes for... three weeks, we'll say."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Yes, we've decided on the who or what he is. Yes, it will be revealed at some point in story, hence the time limit on the contest. Same reward as Kaya's offering - winner gets a one-shot from me as well." ^_^
> 
> Also, "Bhauma" is a _celibate_ war god in Jyotish [read: Hindu] astrology, and thusly the Sanskrit name for Mars. Just in case anyone is curious why Kern panics so much at the idea of being married to him. XD


	14. Chapter 14

**Monday, 6 August 2012 -- Mount Kaputar, Mount Kaputar National Park, Australia, 4:16 pm local time**

Jack sighed. “I should _never_ have mentioned the giant pink slugs to you.”

“Quiet! Do you want him to hear us?” Bunny chastised softly from his hiding place behind a mossy rock outcropping. ‘Mossy’ may have been giving the stringy vegetation too much credit though.

Jack waved his branch at the local version of demon, wordless and emphatic. He might or might not have made a “ _there, see_?” face, too.

“Will you quit being a crazy boofhead and get over here?” Bunny hissed. “He might see you, and _then_ where will your grand ‘ambush’ plan go?”

The demon turned around at that moment, and Jack, his expression so deadpan it hurt, held the branch up in front of his face. The demon squinted at him, shrugged, and then went back to looking for… something. His sanity, maybe.

“I think we’re safe,” Jack said, and didn’t bother keeping his voice down.

Bunny was staring at the demon like it had grown two heads or something. “How…?”

“The sad thing is, this isn’t even a _native_ tree species.” Jack eyed the branch, and sighed. Red cedar. At least it smelt good. “I’ve been mistaken for a tree spirit once or twice, but come _on_.” He gestured helplessly with the branch, and then eyed a nearby rock. “Bunny? What’s that?”

Bunny looked over at the large… insect? Jack wasn’t sure, but it was big, green, multi-limbed, and had yellow wings. Just as he took an absurd moment to admire the - actually rather pretty - yellow-blue patch at the base of the wings, it leapt towards him.

And then clung to his shoulder.

Jack, quite understandably, freaked out. “Argh! Get it off, get it off!”

The Pooka gave Jack what could only be called a “ _Seriously_?” face, in Jack’s not-so-humble opinion, and moved over to his side. Bunny gently picked up the insect and cooed - _cooed_ \- at it for a moment before gently tossing it into the air. It flew off with minimal fanfare.

“Just a Children’s Stick Insect, mate. It’s not going to eat you.” Bunny’s smirk hurt, seriously _hurt_ Jack’s pride.

He huffed, and then turned back to the demon. The demon was staring at the two of them. Then it shrugged. And went back to looking for caves. Jack made a face at it.

“You know,” he said, resolutely ignoring what’d just happened. “That guy’s in the database.”

Bunny quirked an eyebrow inquiringly… and a moment later, dropped it, a disgruntled expression flitting across his features. Jack suppressed a giggle.

“Most of my time’s taken up with these yahoos,” Jack said, and mockingly held up his tree branch to ‘hide’ the both of them from sight. “Every so often there’s someone with brains, brute strength, and luck. Those are the ones I fight. Sometimes they even know what they’re doing. But usually, my job is to monitor these guys, ‘cause they all figure on killing you… and don’t even know where you live.”

Bunny rubbed the bridge of his nose - or was the right word a muzzle? “But I’m standing _right here_! How can he not recognize me?”

“Maybe he mistook you for a kangaroo,” Jack suggested. “Like everyone always does.”

The sputtering denials that ensued were just music to Jack’s ears. “I am not a bloody ‘roo!”

“Really? Because, you know… a kangaroo is just a rabbit stretched out, with a permanent fanny pack, and a tendency to punch people in the face.” Jack paused, and squinted up at Bunny. “You know,” he added, “Lady Seraphina tends to make creatures as homages to people she knew and admired. You knew her, right? Before Earth?”

He would have said something further, but the demon chose that moment to actually _look_ at them and growl.

Not that it mattered a moment later, as a throwing knife suddenly _appeared_ in it’s _eye_.

It promptly fell over, dead as a doornail.

Jack blinked twice, grunted, and dropped the branch. “Hey Edwin.”

Bunny’s gaze darted to Jack, bewildered. Edwin stepped out from behind the rock outcropping the Pooka had been hiding behind a few minutes earlier, blue eyes wide in what looked like surprise. “Whoops. I’m so sorry, the knife slipped!”

Jack laughed as Bunny about jumped out of his fur. “What _is_ it with you blokes and _sneaking up on me_!”

“Welcome to WINTER,” Jack deadpanned. “Where even the geeks who see the sun so rarely they’re growing ‘shrooms in their hair are deadly and scary.”

Jack watched as Edwin twitched a palefinger and the throwing knife flew back to his hand. It disappeared in the next instant. _Where’d it go?_

“Hm? What was that? Oh, no, I had Lorna help me with that a decade ago. Or two. Or three. But- Agent Frostbite, what are ‘shrooms?” Edwin patted the top of his head, mussing his short, tidy blond hair into a facsimile of Jack’s carefully cultivated ‘casually disheveled’ look, before shrugging, and then peering in confusion at Jack.

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose as he waved his other hand. “Never mind. What’s up?”

Edwin actually looked towards the sky. “A rather spectacular example of cumulonimbus, it would seem.”

Bunny’s shoulders were shaking in silent laughter as he watched Jack’s byplay with the absentminded intelligence agent.

“I mean, Edwin, why are you here, in position to have a knife slip ‘accidentally’ from your hands, instead of at HQ, where there aren’t any creepy-crawlies and someone handles all the dirty stuff for you?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Edwin beamed, and then fumbled his coke-bottleglasses out of his pocket. He put them on **-** they really did look silly with his square jaw and strong nose, in Jack’s opinion **-** squinted at Bunny, and said, “You know, I always did like those glass egg things. Fabulous? Fab-something or other, I never paid attention to what they were called, but they were quite nice. Very good job on them, but how did you get the paint to do that? You’d think they were actual jewelry pieces.”

It was Jack’s turn to laugh at Bunny’s expense as the Pooka semi-patiently explained what a ‘Fabulous’ egg was. Edwin gazed impassively at him while he spoke.

“-and lastly, they’re not ‘fabulous eggs’ they’re _Fabergé_ eggs!”

“That’s quite nice, Bunny, thank you for that, but I rather think we should hurry back to headquarters for the meeting, don’t you think?”

Bunny growled loudly and kicked a rock. It went flying quite a distance, though the Pooka yelped in pain and started rubbing his toes.

“Good distance. If you’d follow me?” Edwin moved to the side and tossed something that looked suspiciously like a snow globe, but smaller. A portal opened and he stepped through.

Jack patted Bunny’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “He does this to everyone. You should see the number he does to the old gods.”

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Monday, 6 August 2012 -- Workshop, North Pole, midday**

“What happened to equal participation, Frostbite?” Aster demanded when Jack appeared in the sitting room they were meeting in at the Workshop. He was rather sore about the fact that he’d been booted from the Fortress and sent home to _wait_.

He bloody _hated_ waiting.

“All good up until Farbauti shows up. His favorite food is _rabbit_ , and neither of us want to deal with that. _Believe_ me.” Jack scrubbed one hand over his face, and then collapsed into a seat. “Bah. _Jotuns_. You know, I miss the days when it was cool to just whack them without penalty.”

Aster paused. Well, that put a new spin on things; he didn’t like being eyed as _food_. Still, he _also_ didn’t like waiting. He opened his mouth to speak, but North beat him to it.

“What is problem, Jack?” the Cossack boomed as he strode into the room, all but slamming into his favorite chair, causing it to creak worryingly. Tooth and Sandy floated in after him and took their preferred seats.

“Other than the usual?” Jack muttered. He straightened up, and then tilted his head almost violently to each side. Loud cracking sounds echoed the movement. Aster winced on reflex; that sounded just a bit too much like someone getting their neck broken.

“WINTER Intelligence thinks they’ve found the origin point of Giltine’s cholera epidemic.”

Aster sat bolt upright. He’d been doing the best he could to come up with ideas to combat the plague, but without the source, he’d been unable to formulate a proper cure. “Where?”

“Uh… Gimme a second. Between Farbauti and Thor my brain’s turned to mush.”

Aster grinned faintly, despite himself.

_I bet. Thor’s a loud bloke, and I’ve heard Jotun bellow before. Ouch._

“Words,” the WINTER agent mumbled. “You fail me. Come back…”

He quirked an eyebrow in Jack’s direction. For some reason, that made the sprite smile. After a moment, he realized what he was doing, and scowled. Jack laughed.

“Um, right. Where’s Chernobyl?”

“Chernobyl?” Tooth squeaked.

Aster couldn’t blame her. “Northern Ukraine. Why?”

_Please not there, please not there…._

“That’s the general area, they weren’t able to pinpoint more than that. Probably near a major water source, though, ‘cause of something to do with ten dollar words and technobabble. I’m a _grunt_ ,” Jack said, and rolled his eyes. “Just tell me what to smash and where it is, and I’ll do it.”

Aster sighed. _Of course._

The region surrounding the site of the Chernobyl disaster was completely contaminated by radioactive fallout. All the humans had moved out of the region about as fast as their legs could carry them. Even with his and Sera’s efforts, the poison would take ages to be cleaned up. He knew, logically, that fission was a necessary step towards the much cleaner and safer fusion, but he still cringed at the folly that had led to the disaster.

Spirits could go there, sure, but unless they were of a particular strength, the radiation would make them sick, or worse, just like any mortal; it’d just take longer.

“So, what is plan?” North asked.

“Well, there’s a short list of people capable of going there,” Jack said. He pulled a piece of paper from his sweater pocket, and put it on the table. “We’re all on it. The Regents are. I don’t actually want to know how or why Edwin is on the list, last I heard collecting rare books wasn’t a power…” He paused to yawn. “But that’s about it. Thor and Loki are forbidden from going, Thor because he’s as subtle as a boulder through a window and Loki ‘cause he’s an ass.”

Aster snorted a laugh. Jack smirked at him, before continuing.

“Odin’s given me my marching orders, and he hopes you’ll follow along with. We need to find Giltine, before she kills that entire part of the world, then goes… what’s the term, Bunny? Walkabout?”

“Not exactly the usual meaning, but I get your intent,” Aster replied easily, nodding as he stood and stretched. Jack gave him a funny look, but he dismissed it for now. “I’d like to grab a few things from back home, just in case, then we can leg it whenever you’re ready.”

“Yeah, yeah, I need to find a third wind. Maybe a fourth.” Jack yawned again. “Maybe an espresso.”

Aster grinned. “I have just the thing. Come with?”

Jack squinted at him, and then shrugged. “Sure. Long as it’ll keep me awake, I don’t really care what it is.”

He went to follow the Pooka and nearly tripped over his own two feet. Aster quirked an eyebrow at him. “Right. I’m carrying you.”

For some reason, that made the boy grin like an idiot.

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Monday, 6 August 2012 -- Banks of the Pripyat River, Ukraine-Belarus border, early evening**

“-no seriously is this stuff illegal I think it should be illegal it feels like it should be illegal Bunny hey Bunny are you ignoring me because that’s not nice and this stuff is awesome!” Jack’s flailing with his staff threatened the Pooka’s head, although not seriously.

Aster ducked the quasi-graceful flailing, and did his best not to sigh. Yup, the others were just where they said they’d be, and they’d brought along Kern and Quetza too. Apparently the old gods were on the list. Quetza he didn’t mind so much, the bloke mostly kept his attention away from Jack, and certainly away from Aster, but Kern?

He shoved the minor irritation aside, and did his best to ignore Jack’s rapid-fire babble. “Pooka energy drink,” he told the other Guardians. They all had sudden looks of realization, that turned almost immediately into cringing at various memories.

Well, could he help it humans were just a bit _over-_ sensitive to the stuff? Not his fault, really, and it was much healthier than the caffeine humans seemed to insist on downing like it was water.

Caffeine was right bloody _lethal_.

He turned to look at Jack, just in time to see Kern poke the boy in the forehead. He suppressed a growl, but something must have gotten through anyways. The three WINTER agents all looked at him, and then two of them backed a step away.

Jack just giggled and started talking about - what _was_ he talking about? Fractal patterns and sugar crystals? Nevermind.

“So, anyone have any idea what we’re looking for?” he asked, instead of glaring at Kern.

Jack began bouncing up and down on his toes, one hand in the air. Everyone did their best to ignore him.

Quetza cleared his throat. “From what little our intelligence agents were able to dig up about Giltine, she liked using items, particularly ones that could be overlooked. Beads, coins, small statues that, at the time, were quite common. Like doorknobs in America today.”

Jack wiggled harder.

Aster sighed. “Yes, Frostbite?”

“How about skittles? Can you make skittles? Or… wait, we’re looking for something, right? What about that tree over there? Or that one… or _that_ one!” Jack flew several yards away and started poking at trees with his staff. He almost immediately got distracted by the frost patterns he created.

Kern glowered at Aster. “Just what did you _give_ him?”

Aster huffed. “No human’s ever quite reacted _this_ strongly to my formula. I think I’ll have to tone it down, if he’s to use it again.”

Kern snorted. “Yeah, I’d say. Cut the strength in _half_.”

Aster glared at the cervidae until he backed down and wandered off to poke around himself.

“Bunny,” Tooth chided, but not very strongly. She looked around the area. “So… a coin, a bead, or a small statue?” she said, looking over at Quetza, who nodded… formally?

 _Okay..._ that’s _not weird._ Quetza had even leered at _Aster_ once or twice, though he’d at least had the grace to look embarrassed afterwards. Well, maybe Tooth being a queen and all meant more to the snake than it did to her.

“This,” Tooth said, and sighed, “Is going to take forever. Even if I call my girls in to help, which I can’t, because they can’t come here.” Her wings drooped, and she stared at the river. “I’m tempted to say it’s impossible.”

Aster considered the situation, gazing thoughtfully at nothing in particular - although ‘nothing’ turned out to be Jack’s ass, which he abruptly realized only after Tooth shot him a knowing glance.

He spluttered. “What?”

Tooth smirked at him. “Oh, _nothing_. Really.”

He gazed at her suspiciously, before his eyes widened as an idea struck him.

“What is it?” she asked.

In lieu of an answer, he tapped his foot thrice and concentrated. After a moment, a rabbit hole opened and a small box appeared, which settled in place on the ground when the hole closed a moment later. He picked it up and opened it. Inside was a small round device, no larger than a baseball, but egg-shaped.

“Bunny?” Tooth queried again. “What is that?”

“This,” he said, grinning. “Will find the source. It’s kind of like a scanning device those humans use for various things, or… hmm, like-”

“Tricorder!” Jack squealed, and all but climbed up Aster’s back so as to peer over his shoulder. “Tricorder, Bunny, you made a _tricorder_ , I’ve wanted one since I first saw it can I hold it _please_?” He made grabby hands at the device - but that meant he let go of Aster’s fur, and fell to the ground. “Ow.”

“Tricorder?” Kern asked, interest peaked as he came back over, much to Aster’s irritation. “Is that true?”

“What in the name of El-Ahrairah is a _tricorder_?”

Kern briefly explained, describing a device from a _television show_ , of all things. Oddly enough, though, it was a fairly accurate description. He shook his head wryly; humans and their creativity.

“That’s… not a bad description, actually, much as it pains me to admit it.”

“Bunny,” Jack whined, from where he was still sitting on the ground. “Please? I wanna hold it. Please?”

He rolled his eyes and tossed it to Jack, who squealed in delight and began fiddling with it. He pulled out another one and showed it to the others as they gathered around. He explained how to use it for the purpose they needed, and passed one out to each spirit present.

Jack rejoined the group, and stared intently at the two WINTER agents. “You,” he said, and pointed first at Kern, and then at Quetza. “And you.”

Kern quirked an eyebrow. Quetza mirrored him. Aster blinked.

_How… odd._

“What?” Kern asked, after Jack just stood there, looking imperious.

“Two things.” Jack drew himself up to his full height, which was less than impressive… until he jumped up onto his staff and stood up straight.

_Oh, his toes- no, stop that!_

“First, if either of you two allow harm to happen to any of the Guardians, you’re going to answer to _me_. And second… You are now legally required to call me Captain Kirk because _oh my god I have a tricorder_!” He squealed, and dropped down until he was sitting on the crook of his staff.

Kern and Quetza just chuckled and wandered off, beginning to scan their surroundings.

After fiddling with the device for a moment longer, Jack looked up at Aster plaintively. “How does it _work_?”

Aster sighed fondly and knelt down, another idea coming to him. “What say we go somewhere else and I teach you how to scan people?”

Jack looked suddenly shrewd. “You want to go to a hospital, see what you can do to help there.”

He grinned, and ruffled Jack’s hair, despite the immediate protest. “You bet your nelly. C’mon.”

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Monday, 6 August 2012 -- Hospital in Kiev, Ukraine, evening**

Jack watched over Bunny like a hawk, the jittering, manic energy locked up in the back of his mind where it’d cause the least harm. It’d taken quite a bit of doing, too; although since the consequence only involved looking stupid in front of his friends, well, he couldn’t really care all that much.

Besides, they all blamed _Bunny_ anyway.

 _Seventeen jumbo-mugs of espresso didn’t make my hands shake this much,_ he thought, and tightened his grip on his staff. If he ended up needing to fight for any reason, or do anything involving fine motor control and little fiddly bits, he was… probably going to have to find someone else to do it.

He looked again at the - the tricorder - _oh god a real tricorder!_ \- and sighed. “How do I use this again? It’s kind of hard to do things _with my hands shaking so much_.”

The Pooka favored him with a smirk and reached out, snagging the egg-thing from his lax grasp. Jack protested. “Hey!”

Bunny ignored him. “Here, give me your hands.”

Jack dutifully did as he was told, setting his staff against the wall of the empty room they were standing in. It took him a moment for it to click - _oh my god, we’re holding hands!_

 _Breathe, Jack, breathe_ , he mentally chastised himself.

“Now, here. Just give me a tic, and I’ll have you fixed right up.” Bunny closed his eyes.

Jack frowned. “How…? Oh!”

His hands were _tingling_. And warm, very warm. Bunny absently began rubbing his thumbs slowly back and forth across the backs of Jack’s hands.

It did funny things to his insides.

After a couple minutes, the warmth dissipated. Jack realized abruptly he felt clear-headed and not jittery, though no less awake.

“Bunny?” Jack queried, wonder evident in his voice.

“I expended some of the energy drink for ya, Jackie. How do you feel?” he said, smiling softly.

“Um, better. Expended some of the…?”

“I made you metabolize the drink faster.” Bunny dropped his hands and handed him back the egg-tricorder device.

Jack viciously suppressed the flash of disappointment that shot through him.

“Oh, uh, okay. Is that going to do anything weird to my insides?” He looked down at the device, and flicked it on.

“Nah, mate. Though you might have felt a bit warm while I did my thing.” The Pooka moved to exit the side room and started exploring the humans’ lab.

He picked up a small vial and squinted at the tiny writing on it. After about half a minute, Bunny grunted in disgust and reached for the satchel he’d picked up when they stopped in the Warren to get Jack the energy drink. He pulled out…

“Your glasses!” Jack giggled despite himself.

 _Okay, so maybe not_ all _better, but at least my hands aren’t shaking anymore._

Bunny just shot him a _look_ , and then put them on, returning his gaze to the vial.

“What? They’re cute.”

Was that a little pink in the Pooka’s ears? Had - had he just made Bunny _blush_?

“Bloody drongos have their writing so small,” Bunny grumbled. “Don’t have much choice. An’ if you’re feeling like eyewear has a form of attraction, Jack, maybe you want your head examined. Just ‘cause it’s been done before, don’t mean it’s a good idea to marry an inanimate object.”

Jack giggled again. _Damn it_. Stupid energy drink.

Still worth it though.

“So, uh, what are we looking for?” he asked instead, and hopped up on the edge of a counter, balancing impossibly on just his toes.

Bunny stared at him for a moment, before shaking his head. “Right. Uh, samples of the cholera. I want to nick a vial or two, if they have any to spare. I’ll only be a mo’.”

“You’ll need me for the computers,” Jack pointed out. “Or people are going to freak out at a ‘missing’ vial. Not like we can leave a note saying the Easter Bunny took it to try and work out a cure.” He paused, and added, “That might worry them more than just a missing vial, actually…”

Bunny snorted, and gestured towards the nearest computer. “Have at it then. No, this won’t do….”

“What won’t?” Jack moved over to the computer, and then made a face at the login screen. Password. What password?

Well, when in doubt… yup, a sticky note under the keyboard with what looked like a list of passwords. He tried the first one and got in. “Never try cracking the code when it might have been written down.”

“This whole bench is no good. I’ll try the next one.”

Jack shrugged one shoulder, and got into the records system. “Just let me know which one you’re taking, I’ll mark it down as ‘corrupted and destroyed’.”

Jack skimmed the listing idly as Bunny worked. Huh, that was odd.

“Bunny? It says here they shipped off their samples to the National Academy for testing.”

The Pooka put the latest vial down, and then made a face. “We’ll need to get a sample straight from one of the kids, then,” he said, and sighed. “Great. Just… let’s go.”

Jack shot him a worried look, but simply got a shake of the head in reply. They wandered carefully down the hallways, avoiding bumping into any equipment - Polaris knows what the staff might do if the equipment started randomly falling over - until they got to the patient wings. It was… bad.

Bunny stopped and stared.

“I can go,” Jack offered, and caught Bunny’s elbow. “If you want. I, um, I’ve seen plenty bad as this, before.”

Bunny shivered, then let go a breath Jack hadn’t known he’d been holding, and stepped forward. “So have I, Jackie. So have I.”

The WINTER agent winced, and shifted a little closer to his Charge. He didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything he _could_ say. Just… be there. Offering what little comfort he could.

“Oh, look, this little ankle-biter is awake.” Bunny knelt down next to the little girl. She couldn’t have been more than seven. He greeted her in her native tongue.

She turned her head and stared at him, eyes wide. She said… something, in… Russian? Crap. Jack knew shit about Russian. Too many consonants, not enough logic.

Apparently Bunny knew what he was doing, as he replied calmly and gently, running a paw over the girl’s head, her eyes widening comically further in wonder and hope. After a moment, she nodded, presenting her arm to the Pooka, who took it gently and pulled out his tricorder-egg-thing and held it over her arm. Tiny droplets of blood floated out of her arm, seemingly causing her no discomfort, and were absorbed by the egg-shaped device.

He pat her on the head, and then closed his eyes. His paw started to glow, and the little girl gasped, before falling into a deep sleep.

The Pooka stood, and turned to look at Jack, exhaustion plain as day.

Jack looked from Bunny, to the girl, to the rest of the children in the ward. “I’ve got your back,” he said, and tucked his tricorder in his pocket. “And a portal, for after. Do what you need to.”

Bunny mustered a smile, stowing his tricorder-egg in his bandolier, and closed his eyes. Streamers of green energy floated outward, little plants budding off any random piece of wood that they touched, alighting upon each and every sleeping child, who turned fitfully in their sleep, before calming and looking more relaxed. Jack watched in awe.

The light faded abruptly and Bunny pitched forward.

Jack moved as quickly as he could, and caught the Pooka with plenty of time to spare. The only problem after that was their respective heights and weights. Jack wasn’t tall enough to make a very good prop, unfortunately.

“C’mon, Bunny,” he said, and pulled the WINTER-grade portal from his pocket. “Let’s go home.”

  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  


**Sunday, 7 October 2012 -- Warren, afternoon**

Jack stirred the pot of boiling stew, expression pensive. It’d been a long couple of months. Bunny insisted on going out to the different hospitals, at least one a day, to help the children with his magic. Jack had the feeling that for every bit of healing energy, twice if not three times as much was taken from the Pooka in return. Of course, after that, Bunny refused to sleep for more than an hour, maybe two, before getting up and going to work at finding a cure.

And Jack couldn’t do anything to help, not really. Oh, sure, he could cook, and clean, and haul Bunny to bed when exhaustion got the better of him, but he couldn’t share in the drain on Bunny’s magical energy, and he didn’t know anywhere near enough of the sciences to help in studying the cholera.

Pity the problem wasn’t a computer program or a less… biological… weapon. Jack was better with those.

Suddenly, Jack heard a long string of the most musical sound he’d ever heard come from the the new lab Bunny’d set up.

“Bunny?” he called uncertainly.

The Pooka came out, beaming. “I’ve got it! We still have to find and destroy the source first, but… I’ve got it.”

“Were you _laughing_ just now?” Jack asked, and gave the stew a healthy stir. Bunny had claimed to have found the cure before - but at least this time he wasn’t swaying dangerously and claiming air smelled like the color orange.

Bunny frowned at him, before chuckling. He opened his mouth and - and, okay, wow, that was pretty, whatever he was saying.

“Um… what?”

“I said, ‘this is the language of my homeworld,’” he repeated, smirking.

“Okay, if the language of your homeworld sounds like laughter and music turned into words… never mind.” Jack shook his head. “Just never mind. What’d you say before that, then?”

“I think the most appropriate equivalent would be ‘Eureka’, though much… longer. What’r’ya making?” he replied easily, as he sat down at the table and stretched lazily.

Jack totally didn’t stare.

_Well…. Maybe a little… he’s lost weight._

“Stew,” he said. “Completely vegetarian.”

“Smells great, Snowflake,” Bunny said, before looking at his paws in consternation. “On second thought, I’ll go wash up, just to be safe. Be right back.”

Jack shook his head, and ladled out two bowls of stew, one much bigger than the other. He put the bigger bowl in front of Bunny’s spot, sat down at his own place, and had taken two bites before he realized Bunny’d used that pet name again.

He blamed exhaustion. Normally he’d have picked up on it right off.

Jack smiled when Bunny wandered back in, arms having clearly been scrubbed up to the elbows. “Hey, Bun-Bun, still in the land of the living?”

The Pooka mock-glared at him as he sat down. In lieu of replying, he took a few bites of the stew, before pausing to stare, first at the bowl, then Jack. “When did you get so good at cooking?”

“Bunny, my choices were to either feed you good food, or half-burnt carrot cooked over an open fire.” Jack took a deliberate bite of stew. “Guess which one I went with?”

He received a series of blinks in return. “Okay, valid point. Thanks, mate.”

“Welcome. And hey, stew’s easier to make than brains.”

“What?”

“Brains,” Jack said, seriously. “Last week, you told me you were a zombie and demanded my brains for dinner. When I told you brains are made out of meat, you switched over to demanding tofu and called it brains.”

“I did no such thing… did I?” He looked worried.

“I’ve got the recording to confirm it,” Jack said, and held up one hand in the ‘scouts salute’. “Besides, I spent forty years, off and on, gatecrashing boy scout meetings. I even convinced Odin to make up badges so I could have one of those sash thingies too. Would I lie to you, Bunny?”

“Yes,” was the immediate response. “But, in your defense, that was your job for a long time.”

“True, true, and fair enough. But would I lie about this?” Jack pointed at the bowl of stew. “Eat, before I feed you again.”

“If ya wanted to pull my leg, yeah. But if that’s the only thing I did weird, I’m fine with it.” Bunny took a few more bites of the stew, humming contentedly at the taste.

Jack smirked, and twirled his spoon around his fingers. “Oh, Bunny, Bunny… Well, at least you’re paying attention to your food _now_.”

The Pooka shot him a suspicious look, but continued eating instead of speaking.

“And it’s kind of nice,” Jack mused, out loud. “Being able to eat at the same time as you, without making airplane noises or flying your next bite through the air for you…”

“You did not-”

“Video.”

Bunny cursed a blue streak. Jack made mental notes. After he wound down, he sighed. “What else?”

“Other than the hand feeding? Again? You have focus issues, I swear. Well, you have claimed to have found a cure before this. Of course, first time you passed out halfway through, and second time… apparently air smells like the color orange, which doesn’t actually have a smell or color. Weird, that.”

“Actually is mauve, to me,” Bunny muttered.

Or at least that’s what Jack thought he heard.

“You have issues,” Jack summarized. “But I didn’t mind being used as a teddy bear. Who’s Kozmotis and is he still alive?”

“Firstly, I can have synesthesia if I want. It’s interesting. Two- wait, _what_? _Who_ told you that name?”

Jack eyed Bunny warily. “Eat and I’ll explain.”

Bunny took one bite and chewed dramatically.

“When I was playing teddy bear,” Jack said slowly. “You, um, you talk in your sleep. Sort of. Mostly in other languages, but Kozmotis was in a string of English…” Mostly amounting to “no, don’t!” but Jack wasn’t about to mention that. “Sounded like a name, and sounded like he wasn’t the best guy around.”

Bunny stared at his bowl of food for so long, Jack thought he’d forgotten him. He went to ask what was wrong, when the Pooka finally whispered, “He’s Pitch.”

The Pooka straightened and took a deep breath. “I mean, he’s what Pitch was, before… before.”

Jack bit his lip, and swirled the remains of the stew around in his bowl. “Do you…. I can do something horrible to him, if you want.”

After a few moments of silence, Bunny began slowly, carefully, explaining how the Golden Age ended. It was… horrific, to say the least. But when he got to the part about the Pooka-

Jack moved around the table, and wrapped Bunny up in a hug. “You don’t have to tell me,” he whispered.

Bunny nuzzled his neck, whining faintly under his breath.

Jack shoved any and all inappropriate reactions down, as this was neither the time nor the place for them. The _only_ reaction he allowed himself was to hum under his breath, and run his fingers through the thicker fur on the back of Bunny’s neck.

“Jack, I-”

The front door banged open. They jumped away from each other as if they were on fire.

“Jack? Jack, where are you?”

Bunny growled. Jack sighed.

“Kern, what is it?” he called back, turning towards the door to the kitchen in time to see the deer-man enter. He couldn’t help his own, faint glower, although that immediately switched to elation with Kern’s next words.

“We found it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "That contest about who Edwin is- still open. Of further note- yes. Giant Pink Cannibalistic slugs reside in New Zealand, which is right next door to Australia, to no one's surprise. And Jack, you learn something new about Bunny every day. Maybe one day you'll even learn his name."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "This chapter was most fun! Oh, and we're extending the little contest about Edwin through the end of the month. Winner will be announced on the next posting day after that (April 3rd), so you guys have until then!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Sunday, 7 October 2012 -- Banks of the Pripyat River nearest to the Nuclear Plant, Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, Ukraine, afternoon**

Jack kept a wary eye on his Charge as they skulked through the shadows and underbrush. Like the rabbits he resembled, Bunny showed skill at getting through places that didn’t seem nearly big enough. Unlike said rabbits, however, he moved with predatory grace, and the light of the hunt was in his eyes.

Quetza had vanished into the wind not long after they’d arrived, keeping an eye out for guards. He’d sound the alarm if anything unexpected showed up. So far, nothing had.

Bunny’d had a short glare-off with Kern, and then the Pooka had taken the lead. Kern looked quite disgruntled, following along off to the side a short distance away.

Tooth flew low, toes almost brushing the ground. Sandy’s eye level was even with hers, though obviously he wasn’t in danger of getting an ankle caught by a grasping vine or something. North, surprisingly silent for such a big man, had volunteered to take up the rear. While he hadn’t pulled his swords, he was ready to.

Jack darted from one unlikely branch to the next, the tree limbs managing to hold his weight - heck, a few of them, thin enough to still be called ‘twigs’, didn’t even bend under his weight - and letting him make his way almost as good as flying.

Almost.

“Bunny?” He whispered, stopping momentarily next to his Charge, balancing on a slender branch. “How much closer, do you think?”

Bunny eyed the thin branch he was balanced on, rolling his eyes as he shook his head in consternation, before answering. He returned his gaze to his tricorder-egg device; Jack had asked what they were properly called, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, reproduce the proper name. _Although I think I need him to use that language some more…._

“It says that the location isn’t much further. Should be… just around the next bend in the river, I think.”

“Just around the riverbend?” Jack repeated, and smirked as Kern groaned. Well, well, Disney songs _were_ good for something…. Mind, he wasn’t upset they’d found the source, but couldn’t Kern have _waited_ five minutes?

That could have been a really _good_ five minutes.

They continued creeping forward quietly for several more minutes, until Kern whistled at them and pointed.

“There’s the statue!” he whispered.

Jack paused, and peered in the direction Kern was pointing. It took him an embarrassingly long time to spot the damn thing; it was the size of his clenched fist, extremely ugly, and almost the same shade of brown-green - or maybe green-brown - as the riverbank. Actually, that wasn’t bad planning, all things considered, blending it with the environment. Easily overlooked.

“So what do we have to do?” he asked, barely able to hear himself.

Quetza whispered over his comm. “I have a book. Depending on the nature of the enchantment, which will take a little study and cross referencing, we’ll destroy it or dispel it or… whatever is needed. I just need the time to study the statue.”

“Assume we won’t have that time,” Jack pointed out. “What’s guaranteed success?”

“Smash it, but I need at least a few minutes to prepare a ‘net’ to catch any enchantments, if it’s only an anchor. If there’s one, I can study it later, once the area is secure.”

Jack looked over at Bunny. “And then you release the cure?” Bunny nodded. “Alright then, let’s go get-”

Bunny placed a restraining paw on his arm, halting his forward momentum.

“What?”

“Sssssh!” the Pooka hissed. “Do you hear that?”

Jack tilted his head to the side. There was some distant birdsong… very distant… _brave birds…._ But… no. “No,” he whispered. “What’m I listening for?”

“Nothing, that’s what. It’s quiet. _Too_ quiet.”

North snorted - quietly. “Jack, you have shown him too many of the movies.”

Jack grinned at North, unrepentant, before turning back to address Bunny. “So, what? Something’s out there?”

“Yes, now just give me a minute to- aha! Look, there! See it?”

Jack looked where Bunny was pointing and -

“Bubbles? That’s the threat?”

“You’ve obviously never stalked a croc, mate.”

“Obviously,” Jack muttered, before the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “Bunny? The dragon I fought… it had a head - heads - kinda like that, I think. With the raised bumps for the eyes and stuff?” How many bubbles were there? Or bubble patches?

The Pooka frowned and returned his gaze to examining the water. Disturbingly, he started counting softly under his breath. It really got disturbing when he exceeded _three_.

“What are you counting?”

“Heads.”

“Joy,” Jack groaned, and shifted his grip on his staff.

Bunny made them wait for several minutes, while he double and triple checked his count, pointing out to Jack where a few heads were sitting at the water line, just the nostrils and eyes visible, albeit barely.

There were _three dragons_.

“Quetza could probably handle one, all on his own,” Jack murmured. On the other hand… the dragons were poisonous fire-breathers with three heads, and he was pretty sure the briefing had included ‘you must kill all three before each one’s dead’ or something very like it. So maybe not.

Kern whispered, “Slibinas. _Three_ of them. Well, shit. At least we came prepared - you _did_ bring the anti-venom, right, Bunnymund?”

Jack gave Kern an annoyed look, which was nothing compared to the Pooka’s glare. “‘Course I did,” Bunny growled. Actually growled. Jack… took his libido and shoved it way back in the back of his brain. Not necessary at the moment.

Later though, when he was alone in his room….

Bunny got everyone’s attention. “Alright, so here’s the plan-”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Tooth and Quetza attacked first, the most mobile paired with… quite simply… the biggest.

Very much the biggest, he realized after a moment of stunned staring. Quetza just _formed_ out of the air, a sudden mountain of muscle, bronzed-cream scales, and green feathers that swooped down and bit one of the dragons right behind the hidden head.

The dragon lunged up out of the water, roaring and breathing fire. Quetza managed to get most of his body out of the way, though he lost a few feathers. Aster was again taken aback for a moment - the dragons were apparently huge, yes, but Quetzalcoatl was _larger_.

And then Tooth moved in.

She managed to engage two of the heads at once, slashing at them with her sabers. By the way they were hissing and roaring, they very much did not appreciate the pointy bits near their eyes.

Aster watched another moment, surveying the now-battlefield, and then bounded forward, Jack at his side. The other two dragons had given up the attempt at hiding, and now a small forest of six angry, hissing and roaring heads faced the remaining Guardians and Agents as they ran forward.

North, Sandy, and Kern turned and engaged the dragon to the left. Jack flew up high above the fighting, while Aster went straight for the dragon on the right. He’d really have preferred to use his boomerangs, but the situation warranted something - more.

He threw both of his boomerangs to distract the heads and quickly tapped the ground, summoning his staff. It appeared through a rabbit hole moments after he caught and stored his ‘rangs.

He’d made some modifications since he’d last used it, finding that he liked the style of the human Buddhist monks’ staves, with the metal ring on one end, though he’d modified it to have a razor’s edge, as well as added a short spear tip to the opposite end.

Staff in hand, he charged, swiping at the nearest head with the bladed ring and scoring a shallow, but long, hit down one side of that head’s neck. It roared in anger and one of the other heads turned to breath on him.

Jack filled it’s eyes with shards of ice.

It didn’t like that.

Aster stabbed the spear-end into the dragon’s armpit, and twisted.

It _really_ didn’t like that.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack covered up his reflexive flinch with a quick look-round to see how everyone was doing.

Not so shabbily, actually. Quetza and Tooth seemed to be having the easiest time of it, in that Quetza had gotten partially wrapped around their draconic opponent like a boa constrictor and was slowly squeezing the life from it. He was obviously angling to fully constrict it, but the dragon was doing its best to burn him, and, failing that, bite through his scales; Tooth kept distracting the thing away from its dual missions, which was slowly giving the god the time he needed to encase the dragon in his serpentine coils.

North, Sandy, and Kern, on the other hand, weren’t having quite as easy a time of it, although Sandy’s dreamsand certainly evened the playing field - by a _lot_. The main problem seemed to be Sandy himself. Every time he enveloped a dragon’s head with sand and began smothering it, he’d wince and end up letting it go before it perished.

On the other hand, North had left a saber in one head’s eye, and the head dangled limply at the end of the neck, clearly deceased, at least for the moment.

As for his dragon…

Jack called on the Wind and dove down, feeling her wrap around him in a way she so rarely did. He saw feathers out of the corners of his eyes, great wings angled tight-close to his body as they dove at speed, like a falcon.

Jack swung as they shot past one head, and cracked his staff up against the underside of its jaw. The dragon’s mouth slammed shut before it could breathe fire, and spittle, shards of teeth, and embers sprayed in nearly all directions. One of it’s lower fangs actually pierced the roof of it’s mouth and came out the other side, shredding through muscle, bone, and scales.

_Ouch._ Jack winced reflexively. That _had_ to hurt.

Bunny jogged backwards from under the dragon, swinging a - what was that, some form of _khakharaka_? - in a quick figure eight to fend off the other two heads.

One of the other two heads was briefly distracted when Jack flew underneath it, and snapped at his heels, but he was going too fast for it to connect.

The Wind carried him up a rough twenty feet above the dragon, and then dropped him. Jack spun as he fell, so that he came down feet first between the dragon’s shoulderblades.

On the ground below, Bunny yelled something that was probably rude, and probably in Giltine’s language, whatever that was. Either way, the dragon roared and attacked with all three heads, briefly distracted from what the Winter Spirit was preparing.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Aster dodged and rolled around the fire-breath attack, stabbing upwards when he regained his feet with the butt of his staff, piercing clean through one of the dragon’s necks. Smirking as the dragon roared in pain and surprise, he gave a sharp twist-tug on one part of the shaft and pulled backwards, hard.

The blades that popped out of the spearhead severed the dragon’s neck in two with ease.

Blood sprayed violently into the air. Aster winced at the mess, but didn’t let himself react. Not even when he got coated in it.

“Bunny!” Jack called from behind and slightly above the dragon - wait, no, he was on it’s _back_.

“What do you think you’re doing! Are you crazy?” he shouted as he fended off the two heads that were quite viciously attempting to bite him.

He was just as viciously fending them off, but they’d learned to be wary of his staff.

“Get ready to duck!”

“What’d’ya mean, du-”

“Duck!”

He tapped the ground and dropped into the rabbit hole, and just in time.

The trees surrounding the dragon _exploded._

Aster popped up a few feet away, and his eyes about bugged out of his head. There were splinters the length and general circumference of his _arm_ , embedded in the dragon’s body. The dragon wailed in pain, one neck severed and still leaking dark, oily blood - which was going to be a right pain to get out of his fur - and the other…. Well. That head was more wood than flesh now. And no longer an issue.

Jack thumped down beside him, staggering very slightly. He, Aster noticed, was untouched by the blood.

“Did you know trees can explode if they freeze fast enough?” the idiot asked, grinning like a mad thing.

Aster blinked. “I did, but - _you did what?_ ” Aster shook his head. “No, nevermind. Explanations later. Dragon to kill, now. Jack, look out!”

He dove forward as he shouted, throwing one of his egg bombs in the remaining head’s face, and tackled Jack out of the way, just as the jaws snapped shut where they’d been.

He may have lost a few hairs on his arse, but Jack was safe.

“Thanks,” Jack gasped, and then did something that covered his staff in a thick layer of ice. It extended the length of his staff by a good foot, tapering down into a jagged spear-tip.

Aster spun his own staff, and grinned. “Let’s hurry up so we can help North and Kern, eh? Sandy’s a right bloke, but he’s not that good at taking beings down permanent-like.”

“Oh, that explains a lot, actually.” Jack leapt up into the air, and flew at the dragon’s side - no, wings.

And promptly sliced about half of one wing completely off.

_Well, that’s one way to get it’s attention_.

The dragon’s sole head flailed about, spouting fire in a trail that followed Jack’s flight, and was steadily catching up. Aster bounded forward and stabbed it in the shoulder, distracting it. It turned and took a deep breath-

And Jack’s ice spear pierced straight through its muzzle. The sprite used his - arguably minimal - weight to force the head down, likely via the momentum his dive had built up. When the dragon’s head slammed into the ground, momentarily dazing the creature, Aster dove forward once more, and used his bladed ring to sever it’s neck.

He looked away from the corpse, and checked Tooth and Quetza. That scene reminded him more than a little of titanoboa taking out one of the giant crocs for dinner, although admittedly none of the crocs had been three headed, or capable of craning their necks around that much. Quetza had his eyes clenched shut as he squeezed, wings folded tight back and just out of the dragon’s reach.

Tooth must have killed one head, because it hung limply, both eyes missing. The other two heads had only two eyes between them.

“They’ve got it,” Jack yelled, and Aster took a quick look at his Guard. The youngster’s blood was clearly up. His eyes gleamed, and his lips were peeled back in an expression that could only be called a smile because nothing else quite fit. He panted heavily, but didn’t seem at all exhausted or bothered by the mess about them.

“Shall we help our ‘annoyances’, and Sandy, then?” Aster replied, grinning.

Jack laughed, sounding almost… bloodthirsty. It put the fur up on Aster’s back, or would have if it hadn’t been slicked down with dragon-blood.

“Yes,” Jack snarled, and flew at the second dragon.

He hit it like a shot from a cannon.

Aster put aside his thoughts on Jack’s reaction for later, and bounded forwards himself, tossing another egg bomb at the heads as they jointly tried to snap at Jack’s heels. It exploded directly in their faces. He crowed in victory.

That particular bomb had contained a _lot_ of capsaicin and related substances that’d cause no end of irritation and pain, not to mention, with luck, temporarily blinding the creature.

Which gave them all the time in the world to finish it off swiftly. Five well-trained spirits versus one Slibinas dragon? Piece of cake, as Jack might say.

Though Jack wasn’t saying much at the moment. One or two words, yes, but they were short, almost… guttural.

Kern gave Jack a worried look, and then launched into a stream of complaint. Quetza and Tooth wandered over as he started up, having finished with their dragon at the same time they finished off the second one.

“Those weren’t proper dragons,” he whinged. “Too many heads. No speech. Brains of a walnut-tree. Attacks didn’t bounce off their scales and they weren't hoarding anything. Now, Fafnir, that’s a _real_ dragon.”

Jack didn’t laugh like Aster expected, he just stood there panting heavily for several long moments, before he slowly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After several of those, he visibly relaxed.

Not strange _at all._ Aster was going to be questioning him on that later. Most definitely.

“So,” Jack began after he got everyone’s attention. “The statue?”

As it turned out, the statue was easy enough to take care of. After only ten minutes of examination, Quetza declared the enchantment tied to the stone itself; dispelling it would be as easy as smashing the statue.

North, being the idiot that he was, immediately grabbed the small figurine up and threw it down onto the ground, where it stuck in the mud. He swore, kicked it, then picked it back up and threw it at a tree.

That time it shattered.

“Suppose it never occurred to you that touching it could give you the plague?” Aster asked, even as he pulled out his medicines.

“What do you mean- ow!” North’s question cut off abruptly when Aster stabbed him - most satisfyingly - in the arm with a syringe of the antidote. “What did you do that for?”

“Antidote. Y’know, just in case.”

Jack was sniggering off to the side. Aster grinned.

Things wrapped up pretty quickly after that. None of them really wanted to linger in the area; not as tired and sore as they were. Quetza had apparently strained something while crushing his opponent to death - _that_ wasn’t a pretty corpse, even compared to the other two - and Tooth invited him to recuperate in the Tooth Palace. After a few odd movements with his wings, which Aster realized was the fluttering Jack had mentioned, the giant serpent accepted the offer. He shrank down into his small, half-humanoid form, and then North used one of his snow globes to make a portal for them.

North took another snow globe, muttering under his breath about not wanting to meet Giltine at this moment in time; Sandy went with him. Kern huffed and grumbled while Aster made sure of the antidote that’d be spreading from the point of infection, something that’d take care of the poison still in the water, and also spread into the hospital’s pipes and help the infected humans there, too.

Once they drank it, the infection would go back to ‘normal’ and respond to treatment, so no one would even be the wiser. Though they might question why all the children recovered first.

Jack surveyed the damage and called in the small clean-up team of spirits that could stand the radiation, but were apparently not strong enough to fight. He turned to look at Aster when he was done.

“Home?” he asked.

“Home,” Aster agreed, and tapped open a tunnel. He waited until Jack had dropped in, before glaring at Kern. “ _You_ go report to the regents.”

Kern’s whinging was music to his ears as the hole closed above his head.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Sunday, 7 October 2012 -- Warren, evening**

“Ugh.” Jack studied his hands, which were speckled with the nearly-black dragon blood. “That’s disgusting.”

“Try having it all over, mate,” Bunny grumbled. “I’m gonna run a bath. And don’t go running any other water while I’m doing so, either! Tank can’t handle it!”

“What, not even cold?”

“System’s old; I’ve not gotten around to fixin’ it.”

Jack shook his head, and quickly scrubbed his hands off. It took some doing, but after a bit of effort the blood washed down the drain. A few scratches on his knuckles - and when’d he pick those up? - stung from the soap, but that was a small price to pay.

Right after he shut off the sink in the kitchen, Bunny started up the bath. Jack went and flopped on one of the couches and just laid there for several minutes, relaxing.

The water shut off. “Jack?” followed a minute later, muffled only slightly by the thin wooden door.

“Yeah?”

“Mind giving me a hand? This stuff is thicker’n molasses.”

Mind - hand - giving… Jack mentally pounded his brain back into working order, or something approximating it, and swallowed hard. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure thing, Bunny.”

He approached the bathroom door, feeling oddly as though he was caseing an enemy stronghold while doing so. The air was warm and faintly steamy, more than bearable but certainly hotter than Jack preferred his baths to be.

Bunny was scrubbing at one leg, armed with soap and a stiff scrub-brush. He’d propped his foot up on the edge of the tub, and Jack couldn’t quite bring himself to look away from a line of soapsuds slowly obeying the demands of gravity.

It took Bunny a moment to notice him, so he got a nice, long look at that-

“Oi! Don’t just stand there gawking! Help me get this shite off!” the Pooka complained, tossing the soap aside and climbing into the tub.

“Right, right…” Jack all but jumped to stand next to the tub. “Want me to wash your back?”

“That’d be great.”

Oh boy. Washing Bunny’s back. Working soap into that fur, running his hands over those shoulders and down that sleek line of muscle to the trim waist and…. Jack rubbed one hand under his nose, and then poured a generous helping of the liquid soap into one hand.

The matted fur was unpleasant, but beneath them - no, bad libido. Down boy.

_Focus_ , Jack.

He slowly and carefully scrubbed the soap through the fur on Bunny’s back, meticulously working areas until the muck was gone. He may have frozen tiny bits that didn’t quite want to cooperate so he could carefully extract them, but Bunny never noticed, so it worked out.

Bunny abruptly groaned as Jack hit a knot in the muscle of one shoulder. Oh _really_?

“Y’know,” Jack said, working his thumbs against the knot. “WINTER has massage therapists.”

Bunny groaned again. Jack resolutely ignored it, as best he could.

“What. Not having fun helping a bloke out, Frosty? Trying to pass me off to someone else?”

_That’s the problem; I’m having too much ‘fun’. Oh my god, did I really just think that?_

He shook himself. “No, no! I was just… I thought it might be more comfortable for you, since I’m only half-trained.”

“What? You’re not telling me you actually know massage?”

Jack shrugged. “It was something to do. I got bored during training.”

Bunny stiffened under Jack’s hands. “Right. Training with Kern. Boring, it was?”

“Not -” He pressed against one really tight spot, eliciting another groan, which did funny things to his libido. “ _Exactly_. I just… all the book stuff was _so not fun_.”

Well, at least Bunny was relaxing again. “Besides,” Jack added. “You’ve got all these knots and things…”

“I’m fine with ya workin’ them out, if you don’t mind?”

Jack shrugged, and paused in his work. As nonchalantly as he could, he said, “Well, I am supposed to protect you. Guess I can protect you against backaches too.”

“I appreciate-” Groan. “-it. Oh, you’re good.”

Jack closed his eyes briefly, and concentrated on not reacting to those words. “Thanks. And I think… are you shedding?”

Bunny didn’t say anything for a half-minute, focused as he was on scrubbing a particularly difficult spot on his arm, but eventually answered, “Might be. Happens sometimes when I get exposed to radiation; Pooka biology can get rid of just about anything poisonous, given time. We shed the contaminated fur once it’s been leeched out.”

“That’s… different.” _Toxic fur, yay!_

Bunny smirked at Jack over his shoulder. “Alien shapeshifter.”

“Yeah, yeah… Kern could _not_ emphasise that enough during training, I swear…”

“Did you… aaaah, um… learn a lot about me?”

“Well, I thought so.” He concentrated on a stubborn bit of fur at the nape of Bunny’s neck. “Then I moved in with you.”

Bunny grunted. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean, Frostbite?”

“Things like your people… or how you like your tea in the morning. Or your sexual preferences.” Jack smirked a little at that.

“Well, I don’t exactly talk about some of those things much, and I’d be right creeped out if it turned out you’d been watching me make my morning cuppa.”

Jack decided not to mention how often he’d watched Bunny make his _evening_ cuppa. Seemed more politic, that way. He continued scrubbing for a few minutes, then had Bunny dunk himself a few times. They were beyond the halfway point, but the blood just didn’t want to go. Once he was done dunking himself, Bunny spoke up again.

“Speaking of knowing things about each other…”

Oh crap, were his pheremones acting up again?

“Your behavior during the fight was - different.”

Okay, not what he quite expected. “Dunno what you mean. I didn’t act any differently.”

“Aggressive. Short, when spoken to. Focused; too focused if you ask me, on hurting the dragons. Not defeating them, _hurting_ them.”

Jack’s eyes widened in realization. Ah, that. “Right,” he murmured, and just rested his hands on the top of Bunny’s shoulders for a moment. “I, uh. I actually asked the old geezer about that, once. Back in… Was it eighteen-twelve where there wasn’t a summer? Thereabouts, anyways.”

“Eighteen-sixteen, actually. Go on.”

“Why is eighteen-twelve sticking in my brain as the year, then?” Jack wondered. “Never mind. Anyways, I asked. He might be a blowhard, but y’know, he’s seen a lot. Just told me it happens to some fighters. Protective instinct, fighting rage, adrenaline overload… lotta different factors, Fluffy. Nothing to worry about.”

Bunny shrugged off his hands and turned around, giving him a concerned look. “I worry ‘bout what I want. And what I remember is that some of Baldr’s brood were _berserkers_. Pardon a bloke for being concerned for a friend.”

Baldr’s kids? Mr. ‘Don’t mention him or Odin’ll get crankier than normal’? What did he have to do anything with this? Jack gave Bunny an odd look. “Well, okay, but I don’t have Norse heritage. Or Asgardian. Father Frost would’ve told me.”

Bunny twitched slightly. “I know, I know. I was just a might concerned. It reminded me of that, is all.”

Jack patted Bunny’s head, and then paused. Bunny had called him a friend! Like an _actual_ friend! “It’s okay,” he said. “Maybe it’s a winter spirit thing. I mean, there’s not too many actual, you know, ice-and-snow spirits on my level. And the ones that are, mostly don’t fight.”

“Might be,” Bunny replied, nodding as he returned to washing. “I’d just keep an eye on it, make sure it don’t get out of hand.” Bunny paused, then added, tone light, “Also, your pheromones are showing.”

Bunny smirked, _smirked_ , at him.

Jack gulped, and ducked his head.

_I’m so screwed. And… not in the good way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Another chapter, another fight, and the boys strut their stuff. And yes. The bath scene- second one- was necessary. -grins-"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Next up, BOSS FIGHT!"


	16. Chapter 16

**Monday, 8 October 2012 -- Pripyat, Ukraine, late afternoon**

Jack eyed Bunny sidelong, and bit his lower lip. Bunny. With a staff. He hadn’t been quite able to, ah, _appreciate_ the sight before now.

But yeah, it was a sight, and pity cameras were so obvious. Because yeah. Okay then. Just… yeah.

He took his damn libido and shoved it to the back of his brain, ‘cause not helping. Not at all.

Edwin turned and looked at Jack. He had something clenched in one fist, and surprisingly it wasn’t a knife.

“ _We’ve located Giltine.”_

“ _Wha- where?”_

“ _Pripyat.”_

He really, really did not want Edwin to be there. The intelligence agent was… well, who he was, and yeah, great to have Ed along, ‘cause no one could handle magic traps like Ed, but the actual fighting stuff?

Jack pressed one hand to his stomach, trying to calm the myriad species of butterflies that had moved in.

“It shouldn’t be much further, Agent Frostbite,” Edwin assured, a slight squint pinching the skin at the corners of his eyes. “She’s on the east side of the town now, according to my scouts. We’re just a quarter mile out.”

“The people in town,” Jack murmured. “Hostages?”

“Spirits, we’ve confirmed, but yes. That’s our guess. Bunnymund, would you kindly stop glaring at the back of my head?”

“ _Pripyat?”_

“ _That’s what Edwin told me.”_

“ _Great. Pripyat.”_

“ _What’s so bad about Pripyat? Or are you just being a cranky Bunny-butt?”_

“ _Spirit. Villages.”_

“ _... okay, point.”_

“Yeah, Bunny,” Jack said, and grinned. “Don’t be such a sour-puss.” He looked over their small group; the Guardians, the handful of Valkyrie Agents. They were ready. As much as they could be. “And hey, if it all goes bad, we’ll have to deal with the spirits in the village, too.”

Edwin slapped a hand to his earbud and frowned. “What in the world… get down!”

Jack grabbed Bunny’s arm and hit the dirt.

A pulse of dark energy flew past overhead, where they’d been standing only moments before. Edwin’s hand started glowing faintly as the energy flew by. When he opened his hand, a small silver Celtic cross fell out, attached to string of prayer beads - Edwin was _Catholic_? Since when? - and a faint, wispy round shield of white light formed in front of him, allowing him to stand and part the energy field.

Edwin gestured in something reminiscent of a cross, and a hole in the energy field opened up, wide enough for them all to stand.

“This is why I came,” he said, and looked down at the prone warriors. “I’ll deal with her magic. You deal with Giltine.”

Jack blinked. Well. Okay then.

“ _I’m going with you.”_

“ _Not sure that’s the best idea, Ed.”_

“ _Oh no. It’s the only idea. You’ll need me. And if that’s not enough… Odin’s direct orders.”_

“ _... Well. The old man’s finally lost it. Again. Fine. Just… try not to get killed.”_

“ _That won’t be a problem, I assure you.”_

Jack felt horribly exposed. It was a stupid feeling. Plenty of trees to skulk between and around. He’d swapped out his blue sweater for something in mottled shades of brown and gray. He’d even pulled on a hat, to cover his hair.

Yet he still felt like someone was watching him. Someone unfriendly, that is. The number of Agents watching him for direction was kind of intimidating, but also, unfortunately, familiar. Still, he was used to three people, not thrice that. At least they were all Valkyries.

“Frostbite?” He about jumped out of his skin when Bunny touched his hand. And going by the rabbit’s smirk, Bunny knew it, too. Jack glared, and then raised one eyebrow in silent question.

“Got a plan?”

“One or two.”

“Feel like sharing with the rest of the class?” Bunny signaled a quick halt, and then took the lead. Jack let him. Bunny had the best senses of the group, after all.

Well, Kern was probably even, but Bunny got so happy when Kern stayed out of sight.

“We’re not a class,” Jack hissed. “We’re a strike team.”

“Are we now? Not ten minutes ago you said something about a swim team,” Bunny whispered, smirk reappearing for a moment. “And before that, it was a dance team.”

“Bunny.” Jack frowned. “Never mind. Just… never mind.”

“So. Plan?”

Right. Plan. Why was he always the man with the plan? Oh, right. _Regent_. “Valkyries will flank,” he whispered, once he’d tapped the earbud so everyone could hear his directions. “If Giltine has minions, the Valks will handle it. Guardians and me, on Giltine, Kern with the Valks. No minions, pull out the hammers, ‘cause Giltine will be the nail. Clear?”

Everyone nodded. Edwin didn’t, but when did he ever do the expected thing?

Jack shoved down a spurt of worry, because this strike team was actually two teams, and… No. He wasn’t going to start borrowing trouble. They’d all work together. Maybe it wouldn’t be seamless, but they’d do just fine. Hell, if they pulled this off just right, maybe no one would end up in the medical wing this time.

Jack paused, and sighed. He’d just jinxed the mission, hadn’t he?

They split, and Jack’s group started creeping around to the southeast, while Kern took the Valkyries to the northeast, around the back side of a long row of dilapidated, cookie-cutter apartment buildings. Jack had to suppress a yelp moments later when a figure formed out of the light fog that had suddenly just _appeared_.

It was… a ghost?

And there were dozens of them.

And they didn’t look friendly.

Jack lifted his staff. “Right. Goddess of the Dead. Should’ve figured. How do you fight a dead thing?”

Edwin piped up from the back. “Like this.”

A pulse of white energy flew past Jack - warmth shivered through his limbs as it passed through him - and the nearest ghosts screamed, falling back, forms in tatters as they melted back into the mist.

“As I thought,” Edwin murmured, stepping off to the side. “Vėlės. Spirits of the dead. You can’t kill them, but they can be driven off. Your weapons should all be enchanted sufficiently to fend them off, now.”

And then he wandered off around the front of the apartments, whistling something that sounded vaguely like a hymnal.

The hell? Where was he going?

“Ed!” Jack stage whispered. “Edwin! Ed- aaand he’s gone. I don’t get that guy.”

“Bleeding nutter,” Aster said. “Right. This way.”

There were more of the ghosts blocking the way, but Edwin had been right. Their weapons were enchanted, or something very like it. The ghosts wailed and retreated in the face of dissolution, so they weren’t slowed over much.

Jack swallowed, hard, and pointed towards the thicker mist in the clearing up ahead. It was… congealing was the best word he could come up with, transitioning from wispy streamers and turning into a solid-seeming mass that hulked over the forest.

A tall, thin silhouette appeared in the congealed mist. It - she? - stepped out and reached for Jack, like many of the other spirits they encountered before. Clad in white, gaunter than a starvation victim, with long, dark hair that fluttered aimlessly in the wind as she drifted forwards, one bony, long-fingered hand outstretched and ready to attack.

Jack swung his staff to dissipate the Vėlės, like all the ones before.

She caught the staff.

And growled his _name_.

_Crap_.

“Giltine!” he yelped.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Aster swung his staff in a quick circle about his head, and then brought the bladed ring down at Giltine’s back with all his strength.

She swayed out of the way, barely seeming to move, and then stared at him with dead eyes. Dead, enraged eyes, which was just creepy and wrong.

“ _Yield_ ,” she whispered. “ _I am the end of all things. You drag out the inevitable_.”

“No,” Aster said, and stepped aside for North and his swords.

They weren’t touching Giltine. They didn’t dare. It was entirely possible she could infect through skin contact, spirit or no.

North and Tooth flanked her, trading blows in rapid succession, but the goddess simply swayed this way and that, dodging the strikes as if they were nothing. Abruptly, she turned and caught one of North’s swords _with her hand_ , and then flung it to the side. North dove after, leaving Aster to move in. Jack replaced Tooth, but they still had no success; Tooth swapped with Aster, so he could guard North’s back for a moment while he struggled to get his sword from the tree in which it had been embedded; Sandy was too busy keeping the Vėlės at bay to take a turn.

Up to the rabbit, then. Aster smirked, and gave Tooth the nod to move aside. All the sparring practice with Jack had clearly paid off. They spun and twirled around each other, as much dance as fight, with Giltine their unfortunate partner.

When she caught Jack’s staff, Aster darted in with the bladed ring singing through the air; when she tried to stop Aster, Jack hit her with handfuls of ice flakes. Wherever the flakes touched, her skin turned black - frostbite.

_Huh. Didn’t know Jack could do that…_

She spun, suddenly, hair flying wide. Jack and Aster both leapt back, lest the hair carry sickness, and that’s when a Valkyrie appeared out of the mist, diving down from above, sword already coming down in a masterful stroke. There was no way she could dodge that.

Giltine froze for an instant - and then was a blur.

Next thing Aster knew, there were two halves of the Valkyrie lying next to the death goddess.

He looked up, and found the tip of a huge scythe, black as the night, coming straight for him.

There was a loud snarl, barely human in sound, and he was slammed aside. The scythe hit the ground and didn’t stick as was proper; instead it pulled out with disturbing ease.

Giltine smiled, very faintly, at them.

Jack snarled. “Brenda,” he rasped. “You killed Brenda.”

Aster knew, logically, that it wasn’t as simple as that with a Valkyrie, but… she _was_ a death goddess. Who knew what her magic could do.

The Goddess in question tilted her head to the side, at a sickening angle. “ _Everything dies_ ,” she whispered.

Jack screamed loudly, and charged. He traded blows with Giltine at a rapid pace, neither connecting with the other; Giltine dodged around half Jack’s attacks like a snake weaving through underbrush, while Jack flipped, bounced, spun, and jumped over and around hers. He finally, _finally_ got a strike to the gut in with the butt of his staff, frost blooming outward from the point of contact.

Giltine drifted backwards several yards, but, before Aster could move into the opening Jack had caused, the death goddess hissed.

“ _Enough_!”

She splayed one hand outwards towards Tooth’s back, where she was off fighting a large group of Vėlės, and sent a blast of dark energy towards the Tooth Fairy.

“Tooth!” Aster shouted, but wasn’t fast enough.

Jack was.

The wind rose up in a sudden, howling force, and _flung_ Jack forwards. He stretched out, and landed between Tooth and the dark energy. Even as he was staggering from the force of hitting the ground, he was turning, lifting his staff and swearing violently.

Jack’s staff glowed the same brilliant white as Edwin’s earlier attack - and then the glow died.

The energy moved through the staff, like water parting around a stone, and hit Jack in the chest.

The winter spirit promptly collapsed.

“Jack!” Aster shouted and ran forward, hoping to block the next shot of energy he could see forming in Giltine’s hand.

“That’s quite enough of that,” Edwin drawled as he stepped out of the cloud of mist, cross glowing brightly.

Giltine screamed, banshee-like, as her attack sputtered and died; Aster covered his ears in pain. She turned and glared at Edwin darkly, hissing, “ _You._ ”

Edwin nodded. “Me.”

She screamed again, and lifted the scythe. Edwin stepped out of the way, and folded his arms. Aster looked away. There were more important things to worry about.

Like Jack.

Who was struggling to stand, despite the blackened, festering wound on his chest.

“Snowflake! Snowflake, stop.” Aster dropped to his knees beside Jack, and caught the boy by the shoulders. “Stop, you- you need to stop.”

“Bunny. Away. Now.” Jack snarled, and shoved.

Aster flipped backwards several feet, surprised by the strength in Jack’s shove. He didn’t know the small spirit had it in him.

Jack growled as he dove forward, staff flying, meeting the scythe blow for blow, pushing the goddess backwards towards the… _the river._

Aster glanced at the others, but they were of one mind in this. They charged forwards as a group, Sandy and Tooth in the air, North charging at the head, Aster to the side and with his staff in one hand, a boomerang in another.

For a moment he wished he’d had the foresight to eat some chocolate before this, but - well, he’d make do with two hands.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack was _angry_. And in pain, which just made him _angrier_.

She was _not_ going to hurt his friends any further.

Swing. Dodge. Attack. Feint. Duck. Jump. Flip around, push her towards the river. Push her back. Push. _Push_.

Giltine hissed at him, “You think you can best me? I am _death_. I cannot die!”

Jack snarled in return as he swung wide, staff singing through the air, “No, you can’t.” She dodged backwards, just as he’d predicted, and now floated above the middle of the river. “But your body _can_.”

He blasted her with some more of his frostbitten ice, right in the face. He caught her off-guard, and she flailed at her eyes for a few seconds to clear her vision.

Which was two seconds more than he’d needed.

Jack slapped the crook of his staff into the water and _pulled_.

Water came up in a spout, plunging both of them into it’s icy confines. He screamed, and the water froze solid - except for a bubble of clear, freezing water around the goddess, who, although undying as she said… had manifested corporeal body, and _that_ could die.

And drown.

Ice locked around his hands and feet, and crawled up past his wrists and ankles. Jack screamed again, soundless, water pressing into his mouth and down his throat.

He remembered how it felt, the cloying, clawing, gasping for breath, the pain, and grinned darkly. Unlike _someone_ , _he_ didn’t need to breathe anymore.

She went limp just as he lost consciousness, and the ice shattered.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


The casualty count was dismal. Most of the Valkyries were on it; starting with Brenda, going on through the ranks… The ghosts had been formidable warriors, apparently, even with Edwin’s enchantment on the weapons. There were, perhaps, two Valkyries who hadn’t been injured, and they were… tending to their sisters.

And Jack.

Aster knelt down beside his Guard’s limp body, and carefully took the boy’s hand in both of his. Too cold, even for Jack. Too limp.

Giltine was gone.

But what a damn price to pay.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Monday, 8 October 2012 -- Fortress, Antarctica, evening**

“Thor, leave off the mead.” Odin sank a little more into his chair, and smiled to himself. There was something quite nice about having the family around him for the evening. Thor and Loki were amusing themselves with drinking and lying, familiar sounds that he’d heard in the mead hall for centuries.

Before Ragnarok. Before the end of his world, before… well. Before.

It was good of the boys to humor him. A pity he couldn’t have _everyone_ he considered family, but it would have been…

He sighed. He wasn’t quite sure what word was appropriate. Telling? Obvious? Revealing those hidden members of his kin to the unkind world?

He was an old man, and he made mistakes, but keeping those grandchildren and great-grandchildren and many-times-great-grandchildren secret did not seem a bad thing to him. What no one knew, no one would act on.

And he had many enemies.

“Aye, Father.” Thor set the tankard back down, only to have it all but immediately stolen by Loki. His chosen-brother grinned over the lip of the vessel, and drank deep.

If not for the scene holding only the three of them, Odin could have easily believed he was back in Asgard, with a loving wife humoring him, a hall full of warriors and kinsmen celebrating the latest battle, laughter as frequent as calls for wine.

It was all too easy to believe, in fact, which was why he held such gatherings so seldom.

And why he was as relieved as he was annoyed by the knock at the door, disrupting the fragile illusion.

“I have it,” he told the boys, and heaved himself up out of the chair. Bah, he was old. He hid the limp as best he could, and blamed it on an old injury instead of joints going stiff with age.

“Yes?” he asked, and frowned. Kern. What on earth…?

“Odin. Sir.” The old god blinked, apparently ignorant of the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Sir. It’s Jack. The fight with Giltine, sir, he….”

He couldn’t feel his fingers. His heart labored too hard in his chest. Odin staggered back a single step, and shook his head. “No.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Kern whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Monday, 8 October 2012 -- Warren, Australia, evening**

“Where’d I put the bleeding bolts?” Aster exclaimed as he flung himself frantically through his laboratory-slash-workshop.

He threw several more boxes aside, before shouting in triumph.

“Aha! Why’d I put them with the gardening supplies, instead of the nuts?”

He threw himself back at the contraption he was hastily constructing. Nuts, bolts, skin of metal, glass cover, wiring… wiring?

“Oh bloody hell. Where are the electronics?”

He flung himself across the shop floor once more, flinging boxes aside left and right, a slow panic rising in him as he worked. He ruthlessly shoved it down, but with only limited success. He had to work _faster_.

“There you are!” He wrestled the ancient console out of it’s container and half-dragged it back to the table. Perfect fit.

Whatever pride he felt in that moment was quickly subsumed by his fear as a few of the wires snapped. He cursed a blue streak as he ran to find his soldering equipment.

Time. Time.

He needed _more time_.

Fixing the wires, he all but threw the remaining pieces together. Wait, something was missing…

“Shit. Power supply. Where’d I put the fusion reactors…? Oh! Right!”

He kicked open the trapdoor with one one footpaw and hopped down, shouldering two of the miniature reactors, sneezing at dust he kicked up in his haste.

More bleeding _time_ , damn it.

Attaching the reactors to the device, he added the necessary hydrogen tanks next, before flipping them on. For several long, long seconds, nothing happened.

And then the reactors lit up, followed by the console.

“Oh thank El-Ahrairah,” he sighed, elated at his creation working.

He quickly ran through the settings and made sure it was in working order. For something he’d built in two hours, it was perfect.

He’d outdone himself.

Now, all it needed was Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "-sits back and awaits reactions.-"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: *evil cackling*


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for the record, two things. One, the definition of 'casualty', as per dictionary.com (via Random House DIctionary):
> 
> cas·u·al·ty [kazh-oo-uhl-tee]   
> noun, plural cas·u·al·ties.  
> 1\. Military  
>  a. a member of the armed forces lost to service through death, wounds, sickness, capture, or because his or her whereabouts or condition cannot be determined.  
>  b. casualties, loss in numerical strength through any cause, as death, wounds, sickness, capture, or desertion. 
> 
> Secondly, we fully intend to update tags if anything important happens, such as character death. Ergo...

**Monday, 8 October 2012 -- Warren, Australia, near midnight**

The cryochamber looked disturbingly like a Pooka funeral casket, something Aster did his best not to think on as he lowered Jack’s slight body into the center. Oh, there were plenty of differences, of course; no Pooka would have a casket with glass in it, the cryochamber had plenty of tubes and wiring that’d obviously be missing in a casket, and-

But he couldn’t help but make the mental analogy, despite knowing better. Jack was just… well, the medics weren’t too hopeful, was the thing. He could feel it.

Aster carefully settled the breathing apparatus over Jack’s head; he may not seem to be breathing now, but… this had to work. Attaching several tubes and wires to the sprite’s body in various locations - intravenous nutrient tube, heart monitor, yadda yadda, why was he caring what they were at the moment? - he got everything ready in record time.

He stepped aside and pressed a button on the console; the machine shuddered for a moment before letting go with a loud hiss as the glass sealed hermetically shut. The chamber then began slowly filling with the liquid medium he’d chosen for this task: perfluorocarbon, mixed with various reagents to speed healing and counter infections. At least if the breathing apparatus failed, Jack’d still be able to breathe, though Aster suspected he’d very much hate expelling all the fluid from his lungs later.

“You’re sure this will work?” Odin growled, sounding half a step away from doing something… foolish. Like smashing the chamber, snatching Jack, and hiding away like a mama bear protecting its injured cub.

Aster’s fingers flit across the screen, continuing to turn systems on, before calling up an immediate status report. “Yes. If he can be saved, this’ll do it.” He nodded for emphasis, whispering half to himself, “It has to.”

After several long seconds, the heart monitor began beeping a steady, if frighteningly slow, rhythm. The other sensors started coming online, reporting on Jack’s health. Fragile, barely alive, but… _alive_.

The old god of wisdom all but shoved him aside as he moved to look at the monitors. “This means… what?”

Aster pushed Odin to one side and tapped a few icons, frowning as he read the ancient script. “He’s… alive, barely. The infection, whatever it is - the cryochamber is still analyzing it - is doing a number on him; it seems tailored specifically to spirits, though his colder nature is not what the infection seems to have expected. I’d guess that Giltine had tailored it for Tooth when she fired that attack off. I need to get working on some general medications for now, until the chamber has completed its analysis.”

Aster immediately moved to the closet where he kept his chemistry equipment, beginning to lug various apparati over to the open workbench, nattering on about the various bits of data that the console was relaying to him about Jack’s condition as he did so.

Odin stared at him, eyes burning. “Why is it,” he asked, interrupting Aster’s running monologue, “That you know how to tend to these ills when my own people do not? How is it, Bunnymund?”

Aster paused in setting up a distillation apparatus and sighed. Without turning towards the elder god, he said, “My people are - were - always trained as both scholars and warriors. I… specialized, you might say, in battlefield medicine and botany. After… after coming to Earth, I had nothing _but_ time to study the other arts in greater detail.” He turned to level a steady gaze on Odin. “I certainly didn’t spend the last four-billion-and-some-odd years just painting googies, mate.”

Odin hesitated, and then looked away. “That is hardly what the reports stated,” he muttered. He pressed one hand to the glass of the chamber, staring down at Jack. “But then, only Agent Frostbite ever got close enough to report on your actions, instead of just your whereabouts.”

“And he told me recently that he didn’t even know my workshop existed, so there ya go.” Aster busied himself sorting test tubes by size while he waited for the inevitable response.

“He had more reason to get closer to you than any other Guard.”

Aster flicked an ear towards Odin, but continued sorting the test tubes. “What’d’ya mean by that?”

“Such is not for me to say.” The old man patted the glass, and straightened up. “I have my duties. Take care of my child, Bunnymund.”

Aster turned, expression serious, and nodded, half-bowing, before returning to his sorting. Odin quietly let himself out.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Tuesday, 9 October 2012 -- Warren, dawn**

His brain could toss up the strangest things, sometimes. Aster rubbed his eyes, and looked down at himself. Bandolier loaded up with plenty of goodies of both destructive and artistic nature, arm guards, and then bare fur currently a touch disordered from how hectic everything had been. No green coat, no gold jewelry, no pants that made him look like he’d shoved a pair of rabbits into his pockets.

Considering he’d never worn pants of any kind before, the last was a bit confusing. Why the hell had he dreamed he’d been wearing those kinds of pants, anyways?

And Jack… still asleep, in the cryochamber. Not in a human-style glass coffin being fawned over by twelve of North’s elves, not wearing a dress - and thank El-Ahrairah for that - and not in an enchanted sleep cast by Giltine and a poisoned apple.

He made a horrible Prince Charming, and Jack made a worse Sleeping Beauty. Or was it Snow White? His brain. Sometimes _he_ didn’t even know.

“No dresses for you,” he muttered, and found himself resting one hand on the glass, just over Jack’s face. “Some blokes can pull it off, some can’t, and let’s face it… you can’t, Mr. Ratty Clothing.” He sighed. “An’ lemme guess. Food, proper sleep, and to stop hovering?”

Jack slept on, instead of providing a witty comeback. Aster sighed again.

“It’s going to be quite strange without you nattering on for a while.” His nose twitched as his eyes widened marginally. “And when did I get used to _Jack_ as background noise?”

Probably the same time he got comfortable enough with the idiot that he’d accept food from Jack’s hand while distracted. He still had fits of… he didn’t know what, when he thought about those incidents.

Which were becoming disturbingly common, come to think of it.

“Right.” He stood up and stretched, back popping and cracking as bones shifted back into proper alignment. “Food, at least. Dunno about the sleep, Frostbite, but we’ll see.”

He picked up the remote monitor pad as he left the room.

Just in case.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Friday, 12 October 2012 -- Warren, noon**

Understandable as it was, he really, really did not like WINTER Agents treating his home like the new headquarters.

“That’s it,” he snarled, and brandished a boomerang. “Out.”

The two kitsune did their best to look pitiful and innocent.

“No. You came. You saw. He’s still asleep. Then you made a mess. Now get out!”

The kitsune shared a look, and promptly scampered.

Well. Nice to know he could get those two to listen at least _some_ of the time. Ruddy kits, that’s what they were, out to annoy the hell out of him. He sighed as he put the boomerang away.

“Ya realize I mean you too?” he asked, turning to his other guest. Odin turned a page of his book, hummed, and took a sip of tea.

“It’s good tea.”

“Yeah. Not for you.”

“When I’m finished.” And the god went back to reading his ruddy stupid romance novel or whatever it was today.

“Look, I’ve been patient, I’ve been tolerant, but I’ve got your wankers of agents wandering in and out of my home-”

Kern walked in. Aster snarled.

Kern walked out.

“-poking into the closets and sorting my _laundry_ \- I don’t have that much laundry! They should _not_ be doing my laundry - and I’ve had enough of this shite! No more! I’ll put up with the medics and their daily visit and that’s it. That’s enough. My word on this subject is final!”

Odin snapped the book shut, chugged the remains of his tea, and stood. “So you’ve said.” He tucked the book under one arm. “Medics… and myself. Agreed?”

Aster gazed at Odin for several seconds, before sighing and nodding. “And I know, I know, the kits and _that deer_ have to hang around, but could they stop invading my home every few hours?”

“They care about Jack, too.”

“... one visit a day. After tea.”

Odin shifted his eye patch to one side, and rubbed at the scarring underneath. “Two.”

The Pooka sucked in a breath, before letting it out in a heavy sigh. “Fine. _After_ lunch, not before, and _after_ tea, not before. I _know_ they keep track of when I eat; they can extend me that much courtesy.”

“I’ll pass it on,” Odin said, voice drier than the Sahara. Maybe that was where Jack had learnt the trick. “Hold steady, Bunnymund. The medics said after the first twenty-four hours, his chances increased by fifty percent.”

Aster snorted. Right. And they’d said five percent before that.

Just bloody great.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


After Odin left, Aster spent the next several hours holed up in his workshop, experimenting with new medicines - stronger, faster-acting - than he’d been giving Jack previous, before popping out to have a quick bite to eat. As if running by clockwork, the kitsune and Kern showed up as he put the dishes in the sink.

At least they made their visit short and simple.

He sighed as he tapped on the console to pull up a more detailed analysis of Jack’s health.

The medicine seemed to be helping. Heart rate was up just a bit, better than the barely-there pulse from just a few days earlier. Brain activity was still minimal - that was a concern, but he wasn’t worrying about it just yet - but respiration was measurable now, so that was something. The temperature inside the chamber was colder than Jack’s usual body temperature, but warmer than he currently was. Slow and steady, that was the ticket; no point in pouring medicines into the boy only to give his system a lethal shock by warming him up too quickly.

The sprite’s magic levels were still at an all-time low, but that was to be expected with how close he came to _dying_ ; his body was too busy healing to replenish his core. There’d be time enough for that later, if he regained conscious.

When. _When_ he regained consciousness.

Proper food, proper sleep, that’d have Jack back on his feet in no time.

Strange to see him without a shirt on, though. Especially with that wound on his chest. Bandages wouldn’t have lasted very long in the chamber, so they’d been removed before Aster put him in.

It made the blackened skin look worse than it probably was.

Didn’t help that the boy lacked what little color he usually had. Though… that expanse of unmarked, unblemished, and _pale_ , skin would make a right good canvas….

Aster sputtered and shook himself. What was he doing thinking about _art_ at a time like this?

More specifically, what was he doing thinking about turning _Jack_ into an art project?

For goodness sake, that sort of thing was… not the usual activity between friends. Aster scrubbed both hands over his face, and then gave himself a good shake. Clearly all the silence from Snowflake meant his brain was going into overtime.

He nodded, and turned away from the chamber, to look over a few more instruments, before pausing.

Snowflake?

Since when had he been calling Jack ‘Snowflake’?

… come to think of it, why hadn’t Jack commented on it? He _always_ commented on any nickname Aster came up with for the sprite.

What made this one different?

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Sunday, 14 October 2012 -- Warren, early morning**

Aster woke with a start.

“What the bloody hell-”

The console was beeping. Loudly.

He about shot out of the chair he’d dozed off in and appeared at the console an instant later.

Oh, thank El-Ahrairah. Not a warning. So, why was it beeping…?

Oh.

Ooooh!

Jack’s heart rate was back to normal.

Well. Least what was ‘normal’ for someone who was apparently only a few shades shy of being the walking dead, according to WINTER’s medics.

Aster, even alone with only an unconscious Jack for company, kept his thoughts on the medics safely behind his teeth. What did _they_ know? Very little, in his opinion. And they couldn’t hear heartbeats with little more than their own ears; he could, with a bit of concentrating.

Still, back to WINTER ‘normal’ was a good thing. “Good onya, Snowflake,” he muttered, and patted the glass affectionately. “Keep that up and you’ll be out’a this thing in a few tics.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


The Pooka looked up at the shadow in the doorway, and almost growled. “What?” he asked, and carefully set the medical journal aside. “You missed your chance. Visiting hours are over.”

Kern shook his head politely, and said, “I’d like to talk to you. May I sit?”

He hesitated. “What about?” He narrowed his eyes. “An’ why?”

Kern seemed to take his inquiry as permission to sit and made himself comfortable in Jack’s favorite chair before answering. “Jack. And you.”

Aster shoved down the spurt of annoyance, but didn’t bother trying to conceal his glare. “So talk.”

“Well, I know… things. And I’ve noticed more. You’ve gotten awfully… ‘fond’, I guess you might say, of your once-irritating … what’d you call him… ‘bleeding idiot’? Any particular reason you’ve gotten soft on him?”

Aster wasn’t sure what to make of the way Kern was eyeing him.

“Ain’t gotten soft on any of you yobbos,” he grumbled. “But he’s respectful enough - unlike _some_ , not mentioning any names, _Kern_ \- so it’s no skin off my nose to be respectful right back.”

“‘Respectful’? Is _that_ what they’re calling it these days?” The deer _smirked_ at him.

Expression and insinuation worked together to get his back up. Aster sneered. “Not all of us think with our dongers, mate. In fact, some of us even have working brains between our ears. Not that I’d expect you to get that.”

For some reason, Kern’s smirk only widened at that. “Well, I see where you stand right now. Just… be careful with him, yeah?” The smirked faded as the old god grew serious. “He’s not nearly as tough as he makes himself out to be.”

“What the bloody, buggering hell are you on?” Aster frowned, and held up one hand. “Pretty sure I got ridda’ all the hallucinogenic plants in the Warren… what’d you snack on?”

Kern shook his head as he stood and moved to leave the room. He paused in the doorway, and glanced over his shoulder, a taunting smirk in place once more. “Oh, _nothing_. Though those petunias o’ yours are pretty tasty.” He laughed as he all but bolted from the room.

… How much would Jack mind waking up and finding Kern was turned into a rug and a wall display?

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


It shouldn’t have been hard to get to sleep. He’d changed out the rushes in his bed earlier, so he was surrounded by the faint scent of drying grass and clover. His blankets had been washed - and annoying as it was the WINTER agents had done so without asking, he couldn’t complain about the soap they’d used, ‘cause it left everything curiously soft - and the now-familiar and reassuring sound of Jack’s heart monitor chirping, steady and soft, was the only sound in the room.

Apart, of course, for the rushes rustling every time Aster turned over.

Or his dissatisfied huffs whenever the new position failed to drop him off to sleep.

What was the problem? What was it that kept him up at night, when he was pleasantly exhausted and - apart from Kern’s little chinwag with him - the day had gone… quite nicely, in fact?

Jack’s brain activity had even started to pick up. Sandy had visited, and though prevented from dusting any of his dreamsand over the sprite, had smiled. So, dreaming. Jack had been dreaming. Good dreams, too, going by Sandy’s expression. So-

Huh. Jack. Jack was keeping him up. Or thoughts of him were, anyways.

Jack had always been fairly distracting, he supposed - annoying, loud, insistent, always _there_ \- but he knew why, now. It… explained a lot, but he still didn’t quite see why this was keeping him awake - Well, there was that thing Kern had hinted about, but that was silly, wasn’t it?

Odin had implied the same thing though, hadn’t he?

But that couldn’t be right, could it? Jack… thinking of him like ‘that’? The boy hardly ever did anything that would seem-

Aster huffed, again, and flopped over onto his back. Well. Alright, there were a few things, like Jack’s physical reactions. But he was a teenage boy; pheromones were inevitable. Just about anything could set off a teenage human boy, he’d found over the years.

Still… it happened an awful lot around him. Could just be that he noticed because he _could_.

Or, it could be because Jack got… _that way_ around him a lot.

His brain chose to throw up something seemingly unrelated, at that moment. Back before they’d fought Giltine, after that first dragon had about torn Jack’s leg off. Jack had been talking to Kern about friends with benefits - he ground his teeth together angrily - while… what? Kern had cut him off before the Frostbite had been able to finish his sentence.

What _had_ he been about to say that Aster wasn’t seemingly supposed to hear? Perhaps…. Nah. Couldn’t be.

Although…

He turned and punched one of his pillows. Damn thing was too lumpy for comfort. Jack was fond of Aster, clearly, and he wasn’t above admitting the fondness might actually go both ways. Jack was a good friend, a _great_ friend; the sheer idea of which, given their history, still surprised him at times. Someone he could laugh with, tease, someone it was actually comfortable to live with. Jack could be just as unobtrusive as he could be loud and demanding.

It was… nice. Fun, even, if he allowed himself to think about it. Though he’d never admit it to Jack; the trickster’d have a field day with that, Center or no.

He sighed, and turned to glance at the monitor. No change.

That was Jack, he supposed. The boy had latched onto Aster from the first, hadn’t he? With the satyrs and that fight. And after that…. Most of his life had been spent guarding the Easter Bunny. He supposed the friendship was inevitable, springing from such a foundation. Been a long time since anyone had thought Aster needed protecting, and even longer since there’d been anyone willing to step up and do so.

_Not_ that he needed protection, oh no! But the partnership was no bad thing. A shield-brother, someone to watch his back while he watched theirs.

Aster grunted. Funny thing, thinking of Jack as a ‘shield-brother.’ It was quite common for those pairs back home to be… more than friends. Mated pairs weren’t all that uncommon either.

All of this assumed Jack felt more for Aster than friendship, or brotherhood. What were the chances of that? A human and a Pooka? The differences were countless, while the similarities… he could probably make do with three hands, considering he only had four fingers per, but still; if he’d had the human five to each, things might be a touch different…

Off topic. The fact was, Jack was human, Aster was not. Whatever Kern had suggested, or implied, and whatever Odin was hinting at… well, either they were wrong or he was reading them wrong.

Although, Jack _had_ been with Kern, so he obviously didn’t mind non-humans, but- _not the point_.

Aster all but threw himself onto his side, and punched the pillow again. It… might have been possible Jack had a _small_ crush on Aster. That sort of thing developed all the time, didn’t it? Didn’t _mean_ anything, not really.

So, alright. Assume Jack had a crush on Aster. What did that change? Their friendship? Not a chance; Aster wouldn’t let it. He didn’t have so many friends he was going to let one slip through his fingers. Their working relationship? Same as the friendship, really.

And besides… a small crush wasn’t such a big deal. If Jack ever wanted _more_ , well… he’d have to think about it. But not now.

It’s not like it was going to happen anytime soon, now was it?

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Saturday, 20 October 2012 -- Warren, midday**

Aster was mixing his lunchtime salad when the remote monitor chirped once, loudly.

That was odd.

He set the bowl aside and picked up the pad, flipping through several readouts before he dropped the pad and bolted to the lab.

Jack was waking up.

He actually bounced off the doorframe, but he barely paid it attention. Jack was- yes, he was waking up! His eyes were fluttering, open, closed, open, closed - mostly closed for the mo’, but they were opening wider and for longer every second. His fingers and toes were twitching, and muscles in his arms and shoulders were actually jumping.

If Jack’d been in a coma in a normal situation, it’d take longer for him to wake up. But the Pooka technology had altered that; now, he was waking up as though coming out of a deep, drugged sleep. Slowly, but compared to getting up from a coma, much faster.

Aster caressed the glass with the pads of his fingers, and sighed with relief. “Thought you were going to sleep forever, lazybones,” he murmured, and then began tapping on the computer controls to start the process of draining the tank and opening the seals.

An odd gurgling sound came from the tank. Aster glanced up and found Jack gazing dazedly at him in confusion.

“Never you mind, Snowflake. You’ve been out of it for a while. Give me a few tics to get this thing drained and open, then we can talk, yeah?” he assured as he fiddled with the console.

Jack nodded weakly and closed his eyes again.

Once the perfluorocarbon was fully drained, he tapped the release. The chamber shuddered and hissed once more, as the seal depressurized and released. After almost half a minute, the glass top popped free; Aster quickly lifted it up and pushed it out of the way. He began quickly removing the various bits and bops he had stuck to, or in, Jack, before finally removing the breathing apparatus. He carefully picked Jack up out of the tank and cradled him to his chest.

“Don’ worry, Jackie. I gotcha. Let’s get you to your own bed first.”

“Bunny?” Jack rasped, sounding like he’d gone gargling with gravel. “Wha…?”

“Sssh. Don’t talk yet. Need to get some water in ya. That sound good, water?” Aster shouldered the door open to the kitchen and turned down the hall.

Jack nodded weakly against his chest. One pale hand latched feebly onto his ruff, fingers absently kneading the fur.

“Right then,” Aster murmured, and managed to get them into Jack’s room without incident. He didn’t turn the bedcovers down immediately; instead, he set Jack down on top of them. “I’ll getcha a towel.”

And, he realized after a moment, pants.

Jack’s legs seemed really, really long, and pale, against the dark comforter of the bed - right, right. Not the time for such thoughts. Stupid artist, he was.

Jack looked down at himself, and half yelped, half laughed. “Towels sound… good.”

Aster popped out to the linen closet and snagged several towels, as well as a large spare blanket. He handed Jack the towels only after the sprite indicated he wanted to dry himself, and settled the blanket next to him, before all but dashing out to the kitchen to pour Jack a glass of water.

He returned to find a pile of used towels on the floor, and a huge fluffy bundle of blankets where Jack had been sitting. At the sound of his entry, a pale head peaked out, meerkat-like.

“Comfortable, mate?” he asked, and held out the glass of water.

Jack’s hands shot out and tried to hold it, but kept fumbling.

“Right. Well, let me just…” Aster held up the cup, allowing Jack to drink. “Whoa there, Jackie. Slowly, slowly. There ya go. Good, Snowflake, good. Nice, calm… there. Better?” Aster set the cup on the nightstand and knelt in front of the teen.

“Yeah,” Jack said, smiling faintly. He sounded better, too. “What happened?”

“Well. What do you remember of the fight with Giltine?” They were at eye level, so Aster saw Jack’s eyes dilate just a smidge when he seemingly realized and glanced away, the faintest hint of frost on his cheeks.

Huh. Crush, check.

“Ah, well, we were fighting, um… did it work? Did she, y’know, go away again?”

“Yeah, Jackie. You did good.” Aster smiled. Jack’s blush deepened a bit. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Ice,” he said, and shivered. “Like… you know. Ice and water, and not being able to breathe.”

Aster cleared his throat. “Well, um… you did drown her, mate. Kinda half-did the same to yourself, though I don’t think you noticed at the time.”

“Is that why I woke up in… what was that thing?”

“Pooka cryochamber. I… threw it together, after, so’s you could heal proper. The medics weren’t doing jack, so I cut in. That festering wound she left ya wasn’t doing ya no favors, neither.”

The blankets shifted as Jack retracted his arms back into his cocoon, and presumably touched his chest. “I’m not injured. Anymore?”

“Nah, mate. My meds work good. Should be right as rain, now. Though weak from the lack of activity. It’s been… well, almost two weeks, now, you’ve been out.”

“That’s not long at all.” Jack’s eyebrows did an odd dance up and down. “Think you could stick one of those chamber thingies in WINTER HQ?”

“Pooka tech.” Aster smirked, though that dropped a moment later, along with his ears as he glanced to the side. “Maybe. We’ll see. Kinda nice still having ya around though. Even if it was a might too quiet.”

“I, um.” Jack looked anywhere but at Aster, before clearing his throat. “Don’t think I’m up to nagging you about food just yet. Unless it’s to bring me food? I’m kinda hungry.”

Aster smacked his forehead. “‘Course! I was just making a light salad for lunch. You maybe want some of that? Or soup? Or-”

“Salad’s good, Cottontail. Thanks.”

Aster smiled. “Do you want to take it in here, or do you want to join me in the sitting room? I don’t think the kitchen chairs’d do you any favors right about now.”

“I- why don’t you join me in here, instead?” Jack shifted the blankets. “I’m tired enough to sleep after, so…”

“Sure, if that’s what you want. I’ll be right back.”

Aster made quick work of the salad, bringing two bowls with him and another glass of water. When he returned, though, he found Jack’s cocoon tipped over on it’s side, and the teen was fast asleep. He smiled softly at the sight.

Setting the food aside for the moment, he tucked Jack in proper, before settling himself in the nearby armchair to eat.

He’d just… stay, and keep watch, after. Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "We have a winner! CrzyFun, you get one prompted oneshot from me, and one from Corgi, and huzzah to you! No, we're not telling you which guess was correct. j99450, DarkInuFan, Nike, and Corgi's Skype friend Loki, come up with one prompt each. Corgi and I will fill the prompts, promise, but probably not co-written."
> 
> Corgi's Barking, Part Deux: "Since only a few people got close, we decided to have a 'second place' category. ^_^"


	18. Chapter 18

**Saturday, 20 October 2012 -- Warren, late afternoon**

A loud thump startled Aster awake. He jerked to an upright position, his spine immediately complaining about the position he’d dozed off in.

“Ow,” complained the lump of blankets on the floor. Jack.

“Oh Jackie, you shouldn’t try to get out of bed on your own right now,” Aster said as he stood and moved to help Jack back into bed.

“I’m not an invalid,” Jack growled, sounding little better even after some water and rest. “Just… Okay, so my legs went on strike, but my arms still like me, I can crawl…”

Aster just gave Jack a deadpan look and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Shut up.” Jack wiggled a bit out of the blankets, looking as much like a disheveled child as a dried-out, formerly-drowned rat. “Don’t look at me with that tone of voice.”

Shaking his head fondly at the sprite’s word choice, he finished fussing with the arrangement of the blankets before replying. “You know, after spending the last two weeks completely comatose, you’ll need a day or two of food and bedrest before you can get your body working again. Intravenous nutrients only go so far.”

“I am not going to be carried to the bathroom like a… like a…” Jack flushed pale mauve, made a face, and attempted to stand up, all at once. Apart from the standing, he succeeded, too.

Aster crossed his arms and gazed down at Jack’s crumpled form doubtfully. “Uh huh, sure. You’re totally ready to take on the world. I can truly see that now. Whatever was I thinking?”

“Bite me.”

Aster grinned as he bent over and picked Jack back up to deposit him in the bed again. “You’d like that, so no.”

The winter spirit flailed a bit, eyes bugging out and mouth working soundlessly. He finally found his voice after a full minute had passed. “Wait, no, I _really_ do need the bathroom, I refuse a bedpan. Or a diaper. General principle, don’t you know?”

The Pooka gazed at Jack consideringly for a moment, then held out his arm. “If you can manage to walk from here to the loo with just my arm for support, I won’t carry you.”

Going by Jack’s expression, being carried wasn’t exactly in his near future. And to his credit, Jack made it all the way to the doorway before his legs gave out again.

“Y’want me to carry you, just this once?” Aster smiled softly. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“I… oh, _all right_! Anything to avoid the bedpans.”

  
  


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“What’re you going to make?” Jack was too tired to properly ‘stretch out’ on the couch - it didn’t even recline, so what was the point? - but he did slump over and let the cushions take all of his weight. The blanket Bunny had tossed over his lap probably weighed more than he did.

Jack had never exactly been a heavy weight. As much as he nagged Bunny to eat properly, and on a set schedule instead of ‘whenever I feel like passing out from starvation’, well… WINTER Agents didn’t eat much either. So he’d gone from skinny to scrawny, and it felt like his arms and legs were sticks. Thin ones. Easily broken, too.

“Well, that depends. There are some things that’d be too heavy for you right now, but I can make just about anything light for you. Chicken noodle soup, perhaps?”

“Uh. Maybe tomato?” Jack picked at the blanket. “I don’t eat… stuff. With faces.” He paused, and added, “Unless it’s insect or seafood. The one’s creepy and the other’s soulless, I’m pretty sure, so it’s okay.”

“Huh. I had you figured for a meat eater, Mr. ‘Secret Agent Man’,” Bunny rejoined teasingly as he turned to enter the kitchen.

Jack grinned at the reference. “Do you want me to sing that song? Do you? Keep going, Bunny, I’ve got it _memorized_. And anyways, I used to be, but…” He shrugged, even though there was a wall in the way of visibility.

“But…?”

“Well, it was kind of weird, wasn’t it? Kern, the kitsune, _you…_ seemed rude.”

There was a grunt at Kern’s name, but a more considering hum after he finished speaking. “Well, that’s quite polite of you, Frostbite, but y’didn’t have to give up something you liked for my sake.”

“I wouldn’t. I didn’t.” Well, mostly hadn’t. But he did still have fun; he had his days off and guarding Bunny, especially now, had become quite entertaining. “Meat wasn’t… it wasn’t a big a part of my diet back then, so it wasn’t hard to switch to mostly-vegetables and what-not.”

The sound of banging pots and pans was his answer for a while, followed by the sound of chopping, and boiling. After about twenty minutes or so of miscellaneous cooking noises, Jack started from a light doze when Bunny tapped him on the nose.

“Oi, budge up. Food’s ready. Hot too, so be careful.”

“What is it?” he asked, even as he sat up and made grabby hands at the bowl.

“Tomato basil soup. And…” Bunny paused and stepped back into the kitchen, before coming back with a steaming plate of-

“Grilled cheese!” Yeah, okay, his heart just grew two sizes or something. “Gimme!”

Bunny laughed - Jack’s eyes widened, and, okay, wow, he hadn’t known _laughter_ could be a turn on - and handed the plate over. “Figured you’d like that. Yank.”

“I was a Yank before there were Yanks, so yeah,” Jack agreed, and took a bite. Oh. Oh wow. Yeah, okay, wow, Bunny could cook - _wow_. Just… “So _good_ ,” he groaned.

  
  


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Aster hadn’t realized Jack could make those sounds. Well, okay, maybe he did considering the baths, but - they did funny things to his libido.

Well. At least the boy liked his cooking.

He retrieved a bowl of soup for himself and settled in to eat in the chair opposite Jack’s couch. He refrained from commenting as Jack continued making nigh-orgasmic noises.

Okay. So he _really_ liked Aster’s cooking. He’d feel complimented if those sounds weren’t also messing with his brain in less polite ways. Jack finished his food well before Aster did, despite having nearly twice the amount to consume. Aster quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Did ya have to inhale that?”

“I was hungry.” Jack licked his lips, and then licked specks of crumbs from his fingers. Aster did his best not to stare. “Now I’m full. That’s nice.” Jack patted his belly happily.

“‘m glad you like my cooking, at least. Seems to have gone over better than the last breakfast we shared.” Aster smirked, despite himself. “Granted, I did sorta drop _very_ Aussie food on you out of the blue.”

“I’m sure you found it very funny.”

“Funnier than a barrel of monkeys, as I’ve heard you lot say.”

Jack pointed one finger at Aster. “You know, I don’t actually get that saying. Monkeys in barrels aren’t having fun, or being funny. They’re pissed off and want to hurt you. Or scared. Either or. So I don’t get the expression.”

Aster leveled a considering look on Jack.

“What?”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience there, Frostbite,” he noted, tone light.

“Circuses weren’t always nice. People went to have fun, but…” Jack looked away. “The animals weren’t, mostly. Things did get better, but… and I don’t like clowns.”

Aster sputtered, “ _You_ don’t like _clowns_? With how much of a ‘clown’ you are?”

“It’s the makeup, I’m sure. And the overly-wide smile. And the Killer Clown trope.”

“... I don’t think I want to know.”

“Probably for the best, yeah.” Jack yawned, then, mouth open wide enough it looked fit to split his head in two. “Ugh. Tired.”

“I bet,” he said, setting aside his mostly-finished bowl. “Here, I’ll help you to bed.”

“Can I have a bath, or something, first?” Jack asked. “I feel kind of… sticky. From the ooze I was in.”

“Noticed that, did you?” Aster picked Jack up and gave him a sniff. “Whoa, yeah. Okay. Bath first. Just don’t pass out on me while I wash you.”

“Wait, wait, I can wash myself! I don’t need help.”

“I’m not leaving you in the bathroom alone, not as weak as you are. Or as tired.”

Jack’s growl was positively feral. “ _Weak_?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know right well what I meant, you’re just taking offense to try and get your way.”

“... Maybe I don’t want help with a bath.”

“Maybe I’ll sit in a chair on the other side of the room and just keep watch? Y’know, in case of an accident. Wouldn’t do for you to try to drown on me _again_.”

“For the record, you were the one to stick me in the ooze in the first place,” Jack said, clearly brightening. “Yeah, okay, other side of the room is… tolerable. Do I get bubble bath?”

Aster smiled. “As you wish.”

Setting the bath up was simple enough, even with Jack’s request for bubbles. The water, barely lukewarm to Aster, would be nice and toasty for Jack, making him sleepy and ready for bed. The bubbles… well, the boy had asked. And then he brought in a chair for himself, a change of clothes for Jack, and a stack of towels.

“You’re going to need my help undressing.”

Jack’s eyes shot wide. “Oh, no. No, no, no… not again!” He backed away slowly, one hand shooting out to catch himself on the edge of the tub when his legs threatened to collapse under him.

“Yes, _again_ , Snowflake.” Aster stalked forwards, and caught Jack by one wrist. “Unless you want to bathe in your clothes? Which I wouldn’t recommend. At all.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Snowflake…

“Okay. _Fine._ ”

Jack glanced to the side as Bunny pulled his hoodie over his head. _One simple little word, and I cave. So, so screwed, and not in the good way._

The pants were next, but Jack managed to get Bunny to leave his underwear on until Jack had clambered into the tub and shimmied out of them with the bubbly water as a privacy barrier. Didn’t matter if they got wet; they were about to be washed anyway.

“Humans,” was Bunny’s only, amused, comment.

Jack scowled at the back of the Pooka’s head, though he didn’t seem to notice. Typical.

He began scrubbing. The chair creaked a couple minutes later, when Bunny returned from presumably putting Jack’s clothes to soak. He managed to finish his arms and chest before a wave of exhaustion shuddered through him, causing him to slip in the water.

Bunny’s paws were instantly under his arms and lifting him back to a sitting position. The fur tickled a little.

Jack squeaked. Manfully. Manfully squeaked. Manfully yelped. Yes, yelping was more manly.

That was his story and he was sticking to it.

Bunny chuckled, but made no further comment until he returned to his seat by the door. “You want some help with the shampoo?”

With the… Jack could _feel_ his pupils dilating at the thought of Bunny scrubbing at his hair, running those blunt claws over his scalp… he was pretty sure that he didn’t make any sound, but Bunny was giving him an amused look all the same.

At least the rabbit couldn’t see anything that happened to be, ah, _stirring_ under the water. “No! No, I’m good.”

The Pooka quirked an eyebrow, and tapped his nose, grinning, before going back to the book he’d brought in to read.

“You’re evil,” Jack complained, and reached for the shampoo. Bunny chuckled, but offered no further comment.

Jack scrubbed and scrubbed at his hair until it didn’t feel strangely oily and sticky anymore. He paused when he realized he needed to dunk his head. Crap.

“Uh… Bunny?” Double crap.

“Yeah, Snowflake?”

Jack absolutely did _not_ twitch. Nor did little Jack. At all. Nope nope.

“I, uh, I… I can’t rinse my hair. Could you…?” He was sure his cheeks were completely flaming by now.

“Oh-hoh, now he asks for help?” Bunny sauntered over to the side of the tub, and nodded. “Sure thing. Just relax, I’ve gotcha.”

Bunny maneuvered Jack so that he was more floating that sitting in the water - a quick glance southward told him he was still hiding in the bubbles, thank Polaris - and then scrubbed at his hair a bit to rinse it of the shampoo. He tried desperately to suppress the full-body shudder when the claws lightly raked over his scalp.

“Ticklish?” Bunny asked, very clearly giving Jack an easy out.

Jack nodded vigorously, sloshing water about in the process, too afraid to open his mouth and have a moan issue forth instead of anything coherent.

“Welp, almost done here, Frosty. Just a bit…” Bunny scooped up a palmful of water, and poured it out over Jack’s forehead. “There. Had a bit of suds there, you did.”

They got Jack sitting upright again, and Bunny went to retreat once more, but Jack fumbled the soap and it shot across the tub. He then flopped forward after it and made a huge mess of the bathroom in the process of flailing about.

“At least I got the soap?” he asked when he finally got resituated with Bunny’s help.

Who was dripping wet. _Oops._

“Mm. You could’ve let it soak some; no harm in that.” Bunny plucked the soap from Jack’s hand, and put it aside. “C’mon. Up and out you go.” And then he just lifted Jack up and out of the tub, without warning or courtesy for a human’s need to cover up certain bits with minds of their own.

Wait a second… was Bunny _blushing_?

Bunny settled him in the chair he’d recently vacated and all but threw several towels at him, ears plastered firmly to his neck.

Yup. Blushing.

Despite his own embarrassment, he couldn’t help teasing, “What? Offer to help me bathe, but not get dry?”

_Oh my god, did I really just say that?_

“Oh no, Jackie. You’re the one that got _me_ wet. Should be offering me help is what you should be doing, and not the other way around.”

Jack gazed at the Pooka, wide-eyed. Touching him all over, rubbing that fur… those muscles-

“Sorry, sorry! I can do it myself! Can - can you wait outside?” he squeaked. Yelped. Manfully.

Oh god, he was so hard! And his face felt extremely warm. How he had blood to spare for a blush, he didn’t know.

Bunny gave a full body twitch, and then nodded almost frantically. “Yeah, sure. Yeah. Let me just grab…” He snatched up a towel, and then left the bathroom quickly enough he was, technically, fleeing.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


The door clicking shut rang loudly in his ears, but he paid it no mind, because he’d just realized something important.

Well, no, he’d realized two things, and the first was quite basic, really. Jack was in the bathroom wanking. The second thing he’d realized was that Jack was, quite probably, wanking to thoughts of Aster, which… well. Okay then.

Crush _definitely_ confirmed.

Aster ran a hand down over his ears, which were still flat against his neck. And then he looked over his shoulder at the door. Jack had just hissed - wait, no, probably a bad idea to listen in. Though maybe he’d like some help-

What the hell was he _thinking_? Jack was his - his _Guard_. His _friend_. Not - not...

Aster scrubbed the towel over his face, and headed for the kitchen. Stupid brain, tossing _thoughts_ at him.

He needed a drink to deal with this.

  
  


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**Monday, 22 October 2012 -- Warren, morning**

Jack sighed as he spent himself into the towel he’d snuck into his bedroom the night before. This was getting ridiculous; he’d not masturbated this much in ages!

But Bunny was being so - so - so _Bunny_ he just couldn’t help himself.

Setting aside the towel for cleaning later, he shuffled out of bed and got dressed. He nearly fell over a half-dozen times, but managed. He absently scratched at his scalp while meandering down the hallway, shoulder bumping against the wall every few steps.

His balance was still a bit wonky. Reality could just piss off.

He stumbled into the kitchen and plopped into his chair.

“Morning, Snowflake,” Bunny greeted, whatever he was cooking hidden from sight by his body.

“Morning. Whatcha making?” Jack yawned, jaw cracking.

“Give me a tic, and you’ll see.”

He experimentally sniffed the air, but his brain didn’t catch up to what he was smelling until a steaming pile of pancakes suddenly appeared before him, a jar of maple syrup plopping down next to it a moment later, along with a glass of orange juice.

Wait a minute. These were-

“Bunny?”

The Pooka smiled softly as he sat down to his own plate. “Yes?”

Jack broke off a little bit of pancake, and sampled it. _Oh yeah_. “You made my mom’s flapjacks?”

“Yep.” He took a bite and chewed for a long moment. “They’re pretty good.”

Jack stared across the table, a muscle in his shoulder twitching. _Okay. Yeah. It’s love._ “You made my mom’s flapjacks,” he repeated, in a tiny voice.

Bunny grinned and repeated, “Yep.”

“I love you,” Jack said, and his eyes bugged out the instant he realized what he’d just said. “I mean,” he verbally fumbled, “my mom’s- and I swear if you make my dad’s oatmeal I’ll be your slave for life.”

Jack had a considering, if slightly wide-eyed gaze, leveled on him for a long, _long_ few seconds, before Bunny replied simply, “Might do.”

_Uh oh…_

  
  


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**Tuesday, 23 October 2012 -- Warren, morning**

Bunny had made oatmeal. His _dad’s_ oatmeal _._

“So, the slave thing?” Jack stared at his bowl. There were bits of dried apple on top. “I was joking. I’m not actually in any condition to be anyone’s slave.” His brain promptly tried submitting an application to be Bunny’s _love_ slave, but he rejected the application on automatic.

“I know.” Jack took another bite, and promptly choked when the Pooka continued. “I’ll take a raincheck.”

Bunny smirked at him. _Smirked._

“You’re an evil, evil person and no one likes you,” Jack said, once he got bits of oatmeal out of his lungs. “For the record.”

“I know at least one person that likes me.”

Did- did he mean what Jack thought he meant? Did- did he _know_? Oh Polaris, could he just die now?

Seemingly ignoring, or not acknowledging the import of what he’d just said, the Pooka went blithely back to eating.

Jack resolved to pretend the entire conversation had not only finished, but had never happened. “I need to get back in shape.”

“I had some ideas for that.”

  
  


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**Saturday, 27 October 2012 -- Warren, midday**

“I hate you.”

Aster ignored Jack, at least inasmuch as not reacting to the words. “Another lap, Snowflake. For me?”

Given the crush he’d positively identified earlier in the week, it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that ‘Snowflake’ could get Jack to do just about _anything_ for him.

He was totally not abusing it.

Well… maybe a little.

It was for Jack’s own good in the end, really. His amusement at the situation was a complete side benefit and not at all related. Really.

Jack groaned, and went jogging off on the path Aster had set out for the physiotherapy. Jack had bounced back quite quickly, as predicted, except for regaining the muscle and stamina he’d lost. That was the only thing about fast healing; it drew heavily on the body’s resources. Not that regular healing didn’t, but it wasn’t quite so dramatic.

Given another week or two, Jack’d be back to fighting fit. Probably. If he’d stop whinging.

“I hate you,” Jack said as he flopped onto the ground in front of Aster when he returned from the lap. “I hate you, this exercise, this dirt, that rock digging into my thigh…”

“Sit ups. Crunches, if you’d prefer.” Aster hunched down, and wrapped one hand around a bony ankle. “Anytime, Snowflake.”

Jack beat his head against the ground a few times, grunting at the impact, before rolling over onto his back and starting… crunches, looked like.

“Still hate you. And these stupid crunches. When can we go have lunch?”

“When you hit… hmm…” What was a good number to aim for? A round hundred? “A hundred and fifty.”

Jack paused momentarily to glare at Aster. “I hate you so much.” And then went back to his crunches, counting softly under his breath.

  
  


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**Saturday, 27 October 2012 -- Warren, evening**

“Bunny, what are you doing?” Jack asked from his position on the couch. “Is that a DVD?”

“Yes. Borrowed it from your little friend, Jamie. He said you’d like it. Got the other two, as well.” He popped the disk in and sat down next to Jack, snagging the over-large remote that had been specifically designed for his wide fingers.

Jack raised his eyebrows, and gestured for the disk case. “So what’re we watching?”

Bunny handed it over, grinning. “I’ve read the books; let’s see how this ‘Peter Jackson’ did with the films.”

“ _Lord of the Rings_? Okay, do we have the three days necessary to watch this thing?” Jack grinned, and handed the case back over. “Let’s do this!”

“I figured you deserved a break. You’ve done good, Snowflake.”

Jack snickered, and flexed his biceps. “You mean I’m finally getting back to my old self, huh?”

“Yeah, you’re looking quite fit now… I mean, healthier. Uh… oh, watch the bleeding movie!”

How could he watch the movie when Bunny had just said that? “Sure, right. Absolutely.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“Where’s… Tom Bombadil? They skipped a whole big part of the book!” Bunny complained as they watched Aragorn give the hobbits their swords. “And those swords are supposed to be from the Barrow! That’s why they can hurt the Nazgul, later!”

“Oh my _god_ , Cottontail,” Jack groaned. He pressed one hand over his face in ‘despair,’ unable to completely hide his grin. “It’s a _movie_. If they followed every page of the books, the first movie alone would take all day.”

“Too right, it would. And that’d be just fine with me. Though at least that actor they got to play Gandalf does a great job.”

“What, you want a movie to be _longer_?” Jack’s grin widened. “Yeah, you and every other Rings’ fanboy.”

Bunny eyed him sidelong. “You watch your mouth there, Jackie, before you find my fist in it.”

“Aw, does this mean you don’t want the shirt?”

“... there’s a shirt?” Bunny twitched. “No, no.”

Jack swore he heard the Pooka mutter “It wouldn’t fit anyway.” And here he’d wondered what to get Bunny for Christmas...

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“They left out Radagast too. What is wrong with this director?” Bunny whinged. _Whinged._

“I… never actually managed to read the full book,” Jack admitted. “There was a thing at WINTER. Would-be anarchist. Long story. Much smacking of idiots.”

Bunny looked at Jack as if he’d grown two heads. “Tomorrow. Or whenever it is we finish watching these. You’re reading. New assignment. No excuses.”

“I thought tomorrow was the weights!” Jack hunched his shoulders. “Anyways, I don’t _need_ to read the books.”

“I could always make you read _The Silmarillion_ and all the _Histories of Middle-earth_ too. There’s lots of them.”

“Books and I aren’t friends, Fluffy.”

“No weights tomorrow if you’re reading.”

Jack paused. Was he seriously giving him a pass on exercise to _read_? Was this _that_ important to him? Okay then. “Deal.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Bunny had stayed glued to the television for the duration of the Battle of Helm’s Deep. Jack poked him afterward, getting no immediate reaction. “Bunny?”

Jack rolled his eyes and kept poking, until he got a semi-irritated twitch and grunt. “Bunny!”

“Wot?”

Jack paused the movie.

“Oi!”

“I take it you liked that scene? Live up to your expectations?”

Bunny opened his mouth - and Jack was lost in fanboy babble for a solid ten minutes.

Well, at least he liked the movie.

And now he _really_ knew what to get Bunny for Christmas.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“So, what’d you think, Bunny?” Jack asked as the credits on the last movie rolled.

Bunny started. “Right. Well, there were some pretty important things missing, but… all-in-all… good. I liked them. I particularly liked-”

Thirty minutes later, Jack about felt like his head was going to fall off from the fanboy babbling.

“-and Minas Tirith was just amazing.”

Wait, what? He was done? Oh, _thank god_.

“... I probably shouldn’t tell you that they’re currently working on making _The Hobbit_.”

Bunny’s eyes went wide and wondering. “They _are_?”

Jack sighed. “And divided it into three long movies.”

“So they don’t miss anything important?”

Jack eyed the Pooka warily. “Not that I’ve heard, no, not really. Though they added a lesser bad guy to keep things flowing in the first movie. The White Orc, I think he’s referred to as.”

“... fair enough. But they’ve really not missed anything?”

“... yes?”

“Yes they haven’t missed anything, or yes they missed something?”

“No, they haven’t missed anything.” Jack sighed again, before brightening. “But, oooh, you have to hear Smaug speak! He’s voiced by - by -” Jack sighed dreamily. “Yeah, you’ll like it.”

“By _who_ , Snowflake?”

“Remember when we watched that British show _Sherlock_? That guy.”

Bunny rolled his eyes. “There were plenty of _guys_. If you don’t remember the name-”

“He played Sherlock.” Jack deadpanned. “I can’t say his name for the life of me.”

“Oh. Him. Him? Benedict something or other, right?”

“Cucumberpatch? Or something, yeah...” Jack’s smile was just a little sappy.

“Right. I think someone needs a nap. Happy dreams with thoughts of Sherlock’s voice, eh?”

Jack blushed brightly and pulled his hoodie closed.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Monday, 12 November 2012 -- The Fortress, Shackleton Ice Shelf, Antarctica, 12:32 pm local time**

Whoever had invented the dreaded _budget meeting_ needed to die a slow, extremely painful death. As if there wasn’t enough paperwork on his desk as it was! And this whole idea of ‘light duties’ was making him twitch. Because he knew - just _knew_ \- the other Regents was using it as an excuse to dump all their meetings on Jack.

The moment he’d been cleared for, at least, coming in to the office and putting in a solid eight hours, he’d been stuck in meetings. _All_ the administration meetings, not a single knife or bloodstain to be seen. Even when he’d cornered Edwin by the proverbial water cooler, he hadn’t managed to get the conversation anywhere near anything interesting.

It was enough to make a guy tear his hair out in frustration.

He’d been stuck at the Fortress for _three days._

And when he wasn’t in a meeting, there was paperwork on his desk. At least half of it had to be stuff Kern had just not wanted to do, and neglected to pass on. Maybe the Agent had been afraid of Bunny’s reaction, Jack mused. The rabbit had been pretty rabid about Jack’s returning to work - against it, rather.

So yeah. Meetings. Paperwork. There were performance reviews for people he’d never met, that he had to sign off on. Expense reports - and just how and when had Brenda and Vahan racked up three thousand dollars worth of expenses, when they were spirits and couldn’t, technically, _spend money_?

And where had they gotten the cash from, anyways?

Was his eye twitching?

Jack pressed his fingers to the flesh just under his eye, and gritted his teeth. _Yup, twitching._

A light knock on the doorframe pulled his attention away from the expense reports. He about sighed in relief. It was Bunny.

“You look like death warmed over, mate. And that’s saying something, considering…” Bunny gestured at him with a wry smirk.

“Considering I was dead and got zapped with Manny’s mystic microwave?” Jack said, and rubbed at the twitching under his eye. “Budget meetings. Fighting demons is less stressful.”

The Pooka snorted. “Too right. So, whose heads do I have to smack to be able to take you home?”

_Home._ When had the Warren become home?

Probably the same time Bunny had given him a room of his own.

“Ah, technically mine? Except I am done with… Brenda and Vahan are doing this on purpose, I just know it,” Jack said, doing his best to sound darkly paranoid.

“You know I set up that side-office just for this reason; you work yourself half to death, unwatched. Like some other old codger I could name.” Bunny flicked an ear at him, still smirking. “But what’d I know about _overworking_?”

“Did you just call yourself an old codger?” Jack wondered. “And the office you set up only works as long as people send me the _paperwork_.” He closed his office door with just a little extra force.

Bunny frowned. “Do they still drop stuff in your trays here?”

“Hah hah, that’s funny, you are a funny man…” Jack gestured at where the trays were hidden beneath stacks of paper. He could just barely make out a corner of the plastic inbox.

The Pooka hummed, and then tapped his foot. A rabbit hole opened up and several dozen egglets popped out. They promptly started carting the paperwork away.

“Might have to set up a regular pickup schedule then, so you can get some rest. _Real_ rest. And, you know, get that paperwork done in a timely fashion.” He pointed at one folder. “That one’s dated _July_.”

“Yeah, but it’s from this year, so who cares?” Jack stared at the papers traveling to the tunnels, and sighed. “I thought you _liked_ me.”

“Who says you’re getting caught up by yourself?”

Jack paused, and blinked several times. “Wait, you’re offering to _help_?”

“Seeing as how I’m the cause of at least half your paperwork, it only seems fair.”

Technically, Jack’s current workload was only a third Bunny-related. Another third was administration, stuff he always had to deal with because he was a Regent, as great power came with great stacks of responsibility. And from what he could see, currently the last third was Brenda-and-Vahan idiocy, which he mentally resolved to stick on Bunny as soon as possible.

“Well, I won’t say no, in that case. Thanks.”

“No worries, mate. C’mon. Supper’s ready.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 22 November 2012 -- Warren, early afternoon**

“Jack?” He’d stopped wondering about his sanity centuries ago. Sure, he’d spent a long time alone, but he’d mostly been asleep, and then he’d had his thing for eggs and painting and - but this was making him doubt his own brain, and that wasn’t nice. “Frostbite? Snowflake? Question for you, mate, stop ignoring me.”

“Huh, what?” Jack pulled his head out of ‘figures and factoids and general idiocy’, according to what he’d informed Aster earlier. “Some days I don’t know how WINTER functions as well as it does,” he muttered. “What is it? Don’t tell me they did something else insane?”

“The report starts off something like… I think the smut magazine is called ‘Penthouse’ or something?” Aster studied the papers. “ _I recently had an experience I just had to write you about_ ,” he read aloud.

Jack groaned. “Oh god…! Just… just tell me the paper smells normal?”

“... I’m not checking. There’s something in here about borrowing a plane and checking for transformers and then they have an expense report for thirty-two rubber chickens, a pink tutu, and a unicycle.”

Jack let himself flop forward and thumped his head on the desk. “I swear,” he mumbled into the wood, apparently confident Aster would understand him anyway. “Those two are taking full advantage of me being on paperwork duty. They know how long it takes to get through this stuff.” He sat up. “How’s it go again? ‘It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission?’”

“D’you mean asking forgiveness for shoving those two head first through a wall?” Aster glowered at the stack of papers he still had to read through. “I think they’re making shite up.”

Jack laughed, though that was arrested rather abruptly as an odd expression flit across his face. “Bunny… hang on.” Jack rifled through several stacks of paperwork before he found a small booklet. “Aha! Now, let me just see… I knew it!”

“Gonna share with the rest of the class, Jackie?”

Jack held up the booklet. “Those two are friends with Loki. Like, best friends. It’s a wonder he’s not documented on half their paperwork as it is.”

“So they are making it up.” Aster considered setting the stack on fire. “Any of it true, do you think?”

“I should have thought of this before. Here, um…” He scanned his personal personnel notes again. “Loki likes to write on their reports. In invisible ink. The heat-activated kind. I usually just ignore it, but this is getting ridiculous.”

Aster rolled his eyes, and went to get a candle.

With the ink made visible, the reports were both easier and more aggravating to read. Aster went through as many as he could stand in one go - which would be three, considering the nonsense involved - and then looked up at Jack. “Isn’t today Thanksgiving for you Yanks?”

Jack responded, obviously distracted, and without looking up from his paperwork, “Nah, it was last month in Canada.”

“I was talking about Yanks, you idiot.”

Jack twitched and looked up from the paperwork. Finally. “Oh, um… is it Thursday? I thought it was Wednesday. Or Friday?”

“Australia or America?”

“Um… yes? It’s still November right?”

Aster mimed a swipe at Jack’s head, though the brat was too far away to reach. “It’s Thursday. Day of gluttony, I figured.”

Jack glanced at his calendar and twitched. “I’ve lost time again.” He rubbed at his face. “Screw these papers. And, yes, it’s pretty much just starting or, wait… no, almost? Another hour maybe? I don’t know; I hate time zone math.”

“So why haven’t you celebrated? Or does WINTER have a thing later in the… next week.”

Jack hummed and gazed at the calendar thoughtfully. “Oh… oh! Right! The Christmas party! Preparations always begin around the American Thanksgiving because we have to coordinate everyone.”

Christmas. Aster scowled, and looked down at the reports he’d been stuck with. Of course WINTER would make a big deal over Christmas.

“Granted, most of the older gods still celebrate Yule, or whatever their equivalent is, but a lot of the baby agents like the gift-giving and stuff. Plus, we have several Christianity-related entities about, so there’s that. Personally, I tend to avoid the big party and just hang out with my closer friends. Not quite sure what I’m going to do this year though...” Jack trailed off, obviously lost in thought.

“Not a fan of Christmas parties,” Aster admitted. “I’ll just stay here. You can do… whatever.”

Jack started when Aster spoke. Apparently _really_ lost in thought. He glanced over, and blushed faintly, before turning back to his paperwork. Over the course of the next few minutes, he shot Aster several more looks, blushing all the while.

“Keep that up, Frostbite, and I’m going to start thinking you’re imagining something deviant.” He squinted at the report he was reading. No invisible ink on this section, so… had the two agents actually done that, or were they making it up? He wasn’t sure it was physically possible, so…

Jack’s eyes shot wide. “What? No, no, no - of course not! I, uh, I was just… forget it. You wouldn’t want to anyway. You hate Christmas.”

Ah, something to think about other than the reported sexual deviances of two WINTER agents and their best friend Loki. “I don’t hate Christmas. I hate all the fuss, the pomp and nonsense North pulls off every year. It was better when it was a celebration of light and renewal and… anyways. These days it’s just about spending the most money and getting the most presents.”

Jack hummed for a long moment, before responding. “Well, it’s just that, uh… I was thinking. Maybe just the five of us? At North’s, or… wherever. I’m sure Tooth could make him be calmer about it. Kind of a… well, this’ll sound silly, but-” Jack’s blush intensified - was that frost creeping down his _neck_? “I, uh, well… it’s kind of like having a family again.”

“If you follow up with anything like thinking of me as a father, I will kill you very dead.”

Jack went bug-eyed again. Honestly, that expression was rather funny. “What? No! No, no, no! Far from it! I- nevermind. Don’t worry about it. Just nevermind.” Jack turned back to his paperwork.

Aster smirked to himself. “Look, if you can get North to agree to a low-key - _my_ idea of low-key and not his - party, then sure. I wouldn’t mind a bit of a get together to exchange gifts. Just… don’t expect me to sing or anything.”

“Really?” Jack all-but-squeaked.

So, okay, Jack could sound like a little kid sometimes. Ow, that’d been high-pitched. But… he could feel the hope just rolling of the sprite. Yeah, this was the right decision, even if he’d regret North’s behavior later. Ah well.

“Really, mate,” Aster replied, and grinned.

Jack’s radiant smile was breathtaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Oh look, another bath scene. And rehab! Jack's a cranky baby, but who isn't when they have to work-work-work to get back to where they were? It's always harder to climb back up... Anyways. Also, yes. Bunny. The Lord of the Rings. Fanboy. Isn't he cute?"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Bath time and Movie time, once again! Always fun. And I may or may not have expressed some of my own personal viewpoints on the LotR movies via Aster." *sly look*


	19. Chapter 19

**Christmas, Tuesday, 25 December 2012 -- Workshop, North Pole, noon**

“Argh-! Bloody, buggering… Jack!” Aster hunched his shoulders against the wind, and was about shocked out of his fur when a familiar green coat was chucked in his face. “Oi!”

“Well, maybe if you remembered your coat, you wouldn’t freeze so fast!” Drongo was laughing at him, he knew it.

Still. The coat was warm, and it took only a second or two to pull it on. He’d only be taking it right back off once they got _inside_ , but for the quick walk to North’s front door, it was good to have.

North answered the door.

_Well, that’s unusual._

“Bunny! You’re old coat! Is good to see!” North gestured them inside.

“Why’re you answerin’ the door?” Aster questioned as he took the coat right back off and hung it on a peg by the door.

“You two are last to arrive! Was getting worried you forgot party! Come! Food is almost ready.”

Jack floated by, serenely grinning at Aster.

“Yeah, don’t want to miss the tofurkey,” he said, and laughed as he dodged a swiping fist. “C’mon, Cottontail. We’re late enough as it is.”

“That we are, but who was it again who insisted on wrapping prezzies at the last minute?”

“Not my fault! Mostly not my fault. Look, the storm wasn’t _my_ idea, okay?”

Aster rolled his eyes in response and trudged up the staircase to the level where they were meeting. The oft-used sitting room, at least of late, had been fully redecorated for Christmas but, true to her word, Tooth had moderated North’s tendencies splendidly.

The colors only clashed _slightly._

Jack turned and raised his eyebrows. “Red and green aren’t bad colors,” he pointed out. Then he eyed one ornament, of a madly grinning Santa - who was probably hiding a Viking war axe behind his back, going by the bulging eyes - and grimaced. “Usually.”

“Yes, well, these shades leave something to be desired,” he replied as he took the seat closest to the fire. True, the coat had cut the wind from chilling him to the bone, but it did nothing for his _toes_.

His Guard smirked, and hopped up to perch on the back of the couch. Close enough that Aster could have leant his head to the side and brushed his ears against Jack’s shin, not so close that the fire’s warmth was uncomfortable. It was nice, really. Aster might have gotten used to having the little bugger around.

Maybe.

Just then, the other Guardians entered the room, floating, flitting, and striding, accompanied by several yeti bearing platters of finger foods and jugs of various liquids - of questionable alcohol content, no doubt.

“Jack, don’t you dare drink anything that’ll make you sing,” Aster warned.

“What? I have a lovely singing voice!” Jack immediately snagged a glass of something gold-coloured and took a long drink. “Wow! What is this stuff? It’s great!”

North rattled off something in Russian that left Aster snickering at Jack’s confused expression. Sprite really needed to work on his Russian. He said as much.

“Too many consonants and not enough logic.”

Aster laughed. True enough.

“Is plenty of logic,” North protested. “In new year, I will teach you. You will see.”  
Jack groaned. “Dun’ wanna!”

“It’ll be good for you,” Aster pointed out. “And just think, you can annoy more people if you know Russian.”

Jack gazed at him consideringly for a long moment, eventually saying, “Point.” He then grinned mischievously. “Odin hates Russian.”

Well, long as no one knew this was kind of his fault… If anyone asked he was putting all the blame on North. He’d proposed the idea first anyway.

Aster got himself a drink, something his nose told him had so little booze that it might as well be virgin, and it was sweet too. Jack began sampling the finger foods and, true to his words, carefully avoided things with meat in them; thankfully, in deference to Aster, North always made enough vegetarian dishes to satisfy.

Though he never stopped complaining about it. You’d think it was a crime to not eat meat, the way the old Cossack went on.

Jack also, very thoughtfully, collected a plate for Aster, as though the Pooka’s legs had suddenly stopped working and he needed fussed over. He considered objecting, but Jack looked so happy doing it, well… where was the harm, anyways?

And the blush when he voiced his thanks was actually kind of cute.

The smirk Tooth directed his way, however, was not cute. At all. He mouthed “What?” at her, and she replied by looking back and forth between him and Jack meaningfully. He stared at her dumbly long enough that she smacked her forehead and motioned for him to step out of the room with her.

Being friends with Sandy did make Charades a lot easier to understand.

He heaved himself up off the couch, and waved Jack off when he turned and looked inquiring. “Yes, Tooth?” he asked, once they were out in the hall. The slightly cooler, certainly less comfortable hall - but those shades of red and green weren’t assaulting his eyes, so there was that.

“So.”

“So?”

“You. And Jack.”

“I’m… not following.”

She sighed heavily and lightly tapped him on the nose. He twitched his nose to get rid of the sensation. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way he moons after you.”

“What of it?” Aster asked softly, sidling further away from the door, just in case. “I’ve noticed the crush he’s got, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, Bunny,” she murmured, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Still not following. Been a while since… what?”

Oh, he did _not_ like that pitying expression. “Since your last romance.”

“My last…?” Aster’s stomach decided to make itself known. With _butterflies_. He tried to ignore it. “I- what are you _thinking_? He’s my _Guard_ , not some lad I can just pick up off the street for a roll in the hay!” He shook one finger at her warningly. “You’re starkers.”

“Actually, I think he’d take that offer without a moment’s hesitation,” she replied blithely, ignoring his protests. “But I’m talking about _you._ About how _you_ feel about _him._ ”

“Don’t start with me,” he growled. Jack… had a small crush on him. Aster wasn’t going to mock him, but teasing was perfectly allowed. And really, was it so surprising? Jack spent most of his time either watching Aster or with him, had done so for over two centuries. These things happened.

Didn’t mean he’d have to act on it, even if he thought the sprite was cute- _wait, what?_

Aster spluttered, even though neither of them had spoken further. Cute? Since when was Jack _cute_? Well. From a purely objective standpoint, maybe he was aesthetically pleasing, but _cute_? Like a gangly, still not entirely grown young buck on his first and hopefully only courtship? _Cute_?

“I think Jack’s cute,” he muttered, and smacked his palm to his forehead.

Tooth tittered, _tittered_. “Told you so.”

“But… but how _?_ When? _Why_?”

“It helps that he’s cute,” she pointed out. “Eager to please. Very good in a fight, which I know is something you appreciate _very_ much.”

It would have sounded better if she didn’t imply his appreciation had more to do with his libido than, say, having a useful sparring partner he could trust.

“And I’ve seen the way you look at him when you think no one else is looking. That’s _not_ how you look at a friend.”

“I don’t look at Jack.”

“Bunny. You do. And I feel naughty just watching you look at him _like that_.”

He spluttered again. “So don’t- never mind, I don’t look at him, so there’s nothing for you to watch!”

She patted him on the arm and sighed. “Of course you don’t. And North isn’t crazy about Christmas.”

“Oh, don’t even- there is no comparison. None! North’s bleeding mental and I don’t… I… damn it. I do, don’t I?”

She held up her hands defensively. Placatingly. “Hey, I’m just pointing out what I see. And I think so, yes. Just promise me you’ll think about it?”

“Strewth.” He rubbed his paw over one cheek, smoothing down the fur. “Yeah. Of course. Let’s go back in before they mount a rescue expedition to find us.”

She giggled at his joke and flit back into the room, sidling up to North immediately to weedle something, he knew not what, out of the man. Aster meandered back to the couch in a bit of a daze, plopping down next to Jack unthinkingly.

Unthinking, that was, until Jack spoke up.

“What was that all about?” he inquired, innocently curious.

“Oh, uh. Tooth just wanted to point something out to me, is all.” He eyed Jack sidelong.

“What?”

He was saved from answering by North’s booming voice.

“Is time for presents!”

Oh, bloody hell. “Great,” Aster muttered. “We have to go through _this_. Almost forgot.”

Jack grinned and shoulder bumped him, before turning his attention to North as the crazy old coot started passing out over-sized boxes. Seems he’d collected all the presents and put them under a decorated tree. Typical.

Most of the presents were of the usual fair - North had gotten him a new scarf, with a simple, non-Christmas-themed design, which was _actually_ rather thoughtful, considering the man’s obsession with Christmas - though when it came to Jack’s present, the box was… large.

“You are hard to make present for.” North shook his head. “So, I got creative! I was sure you would not have this or that, but Phil kept telling me no, you _already_ have this or that! How is it you have this or that without me giving them to you?”

Aster rubbed the bridge of his muzzle while he gazed thoughtfully at Jack’s present to him. “ _How_ much older than you am I again?” He shot a warning glance at North, before turning his attention to the sprite. “And Jack, you didn’t have to.”

“Wanted to,” Jack pointed out. “Isn’t that kind of the idea? I figured you’d like this stuff, so… I called in a few favors.”

“‘Spose it is, at that. Well, let’s have a look then,” Aster replied and proceeded to unwrap his gift.

_Gifts_. There were three packages all together.

He stared for a long minute upon opening the first. “A _sword_?”

Jack’s grin was as sharp as the blade. “Yup. Anduril, the Flame of the West. I had Weyland make a battle-worthy replica; thought you’d enjoy it.”

Aster would forever after deny the sound he’d made was a squeak, squeal, or anything else silly. And, to distract from the sound he most _certainly_ hadn’t made, he quickly got up, unsheathed the sword, and began a quick and simple blade dance in the middle of the room. The sword’s balance was sweet, and the sound it made cutting through the air - Weyland was a master of his craft. “Replica, hell,” he said, once he’d finished the pattern. “I’d swear this is the real deal.”

“It may or may not be enchanted to not break easily.” Jack’s grin was positively feral. Were- were his eyes dilated a bit after Aster’s display? Oh dear.

And here he was, holding the classical phallic symbol in one hand… better put that away. “Toss me the scabbard, Jackie?”

The other two presents were just as thoughtful. Yet another replica prop - this one of Thranduil’s Crown, of all things, and sized to his head too - and a- a-

“Jack. This is a shirt.”

“Turn it around, Bunny. Design’s on the _other_ side.”

Okay. That time he _may_ have made an unmanly sound. But he was going to deny it to his grave.

“It should be big enough even for you to wear, too,” Jack said, picking uncertainly at his pants. “But if not, I guess it can go up on a wall as art?”

“Bit long, don’t you think?” Aster asked as he gazed thoughtfully at the article of clothing. “Though it might do well as a nightshirt. I bet it’d hang below your knees though, if you were to wear it.”

“Well, you’re long in the torso. And it’s for _you_ , Cottontail, not me.”

Aster had a sudden image flash through his mind - Jack, hair sleep-tousled, standing at ease in this shirt, and _nothing_ else, gazing at him in heated desire. It… yeah, okay. Tooth had a point. He had a - a _thing_ for Jack.

_El-Ahrairah’s balls_ , he was so screwed. And not in the good way. At least not _yet-_

No, _not_ the time to think on that. Later, _alone_ , in his nest… maybe.

“Well. Thanks, Jackie. The sword and the crown are lovely. The shirt…” The corner of his lips turned up into a little smirk. “Well, we’ll see about the shirt.”

Jack laughed, and bowed to the room. “Consider me awesome, then.”

Aster smiled and then, just to mess with the sprite, nodded. Jack flushed brightly. He sighed mentally when the word ‘cute’ flashed through his mind.

Yep. Totally screwed.

“Well, go on you tosser, open my present!”

Jack grinned, cheeks still coated in a fragile layer of frost, and picked up the box. Aster hadn’t used wrapping paper. Plain brown butcher’s paper was good enough for everything else, why not this? Besides, he’d finished it late, and all that’d been left at North’s was the garish and the - in his opinion - obscene.

“Will I get in trouble if I shake it?” Jack asked.

Aster glared. He figured that must have been answer enough, because Jack started handling it with much more care. Sure, a little shake wouldn’t harm it - _he’d_ made it, after all - but it was the principle of the matter.

Jack’s gasp when he opened the box was worth the wait. He carefully removed the Faberge-style egg Aster had spent a good two months crafting, mostly while Jack was sleeping or comatose in the cryochamber, and gazed at it, enraptured.

Tooth gasped, and flew over to hover at Jack’s shoulder. “Bunny, this is _beautiful_. Oh, it looks like real ice!”

Sandy took up position at Jack’s other shoulder, symbols flying wild and fast, even as he nodded in agreement with Tooth.

“Bunny?” Jack asked softly after a moment, clearly lost and not at all sure what to do. “I don’t know what to say.”

Bunny smiled, just as softly as Jack had spoken. “Open it.”

Jack shot him a confused glance, before turning to carefully feel along the egg, eventually finding the latch that was deliberately designed to blend in with the rest of the design. Applying light pressure, the egg popped open a hair’s width. Jack cautiously opened it, and gasped anew when he saw what was inside.

“Bunny, what…?” Jack choked out.

“‘S small figurines of you and your sister, done to the best of my ability to match your descriptions. I hope it does your memories justice.”

“I… _yeah_. It does.” Aster forgave Jack for being so tongue tied.

“They pop out, y’know. If you want to take a closer look.”

Jack ever-so-carefully extracted the figurine of his sister and gazed at it wonderingly. North came over and patted Aster on the shoulder, quietly congratulating him on his workmanship, but the Pooka had eyes only for Jack and his reactions.

Jack lightly ran one finger down the side of the figurine’s face, whispering softly enough that Aster was sure he was the only one to hear it, “Hey sis”, before returning it reverently to the egg and closing it. He placed it back in the box and set it to one side, away from the central area of the room, and then marched over to Aster and did his best impression of North’s bear hug around the Pooka’s middle.

“Y’got about two feet and three hundred pounds to go before you can crack m’ spine like North,” Aster pointed out. He placed his hands on Jack’s shoulder blades, a nice, safe spot to leave them, and ignored North’s indignant protests about his weight.

Jack looked up after a few minutes. “Thanks Bunny. Just… thanks.”

“Ah, well. Shove off now, you’ve still got prezzies from everyone else to open.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

Jack made quick work of the rest of his presents and, while they were all thoughtful and welcome, he kept shooting glances at Bunny, completely flabbergasted by the simply amazing and beautiful piece of _art_ that had been made, just for him.

Sure, Jack had put a lot of thought into his gifts for Bunny, but, well… things being what they were, of course he was going to. This was the first time he’d been able to give the Pooka a Christmas gift, and whatever Bunny’s feelings about the holiday…

Jack still remembered - or re-remembered, maybe - Christmas with his family. Of watching his parents make thoughtful presents for each other. So maybe there was a little of that in his gifts to Bunny. If you tilted your head and squinted.

Because if you didn’t squint, there was kind of a _lot_ of that in his gifts to Bunny.

He just hadn’t expected Bunny to be just as thoughtful _back_.

“Jack! Now is time for my present to you,” North said, shattering Jack’s train of thought. The various cars went up in flames and explosions. Jack shook off the mental images - he could all but _see_ the words running screaming from the flames, what the _hell_ brain? Really? - and raised his eyebrows.

“Didn’t you already give me a present?”

“That was from me, this is from Santa. Now you are on Nice list! Is very strange, list gives years you are on list, yes? But is saying many, many years instead of one. I do not get this, I think magic might have broken little bit.” North frowned, and then all but shoved the present at Jack. “Here.”

Phil coughed and scuffed one foot on the floor, glancing to the side guiltily.

“Phil?” North asked, drawing himself up to his full height. Jack debated ignoring the byplay and just tearing into the present, but… nah, way too interesting to ignore.

Phil nattered on in Yettish for the better part of a minute before North got the gist of what the yeti was saying.

“You… _tampered_ with List?” Phil nodded, wary. “I do not understand. _Why_?”

The yeti hunched his shoulders as he tried to explain, hands waving through the air. Sandy almost got swatted with a backhand, actually. Yeti had _long_ arms.

“You put Jack on Naughty list, always, so I would _not_ give him present?” North looked flabbergasted.

Jack wasn’t flabbergasted. He was annoyed. “You. Me. Training at Headquarters,” he told Phil, who looked worried instead of just wary. Good. “What the hell, Phil, why?”

Phil’s stuttered - oh, great, stuttered _Yettish_ , as if it wasn’t hard enough to understand - explanation amounted to protecting Jack’s cover, since any present deliveries would have gone to the Fortress, and North wasn’t to know about the Fortress at the time.

And, apparently, ‘if it made Jack feel better’, he still held the Naughty list record without Phil’s tampering.

“ _So_ much training,” Jack muttered, and slumped back against the couch cushions. “Fine, I get it, Phil. I do. Just, sheesh, _tell_ us next time? I mean us as in WINTER, because it’s not cool to blindside me with this, get me?”

And in not telling anyone in WINTER about what he was doing, Phil had denied the agents the opportunity to bet on more things, like if and when North would ever catch the yeti at the adjustments.

North looked indignant at that point. Phil just nodded and said he was sorry. The agents would just have to bet on the outcome of the training spar in a few days.

And he was _so_ making Phil make up for the missed presents.

Granted, that meant he had to have things he _wanted_ , and, well… Phil couldn’t exactly hand him _Bunny_ on a silver platter, so it’d take some thought.

Jack mentally facepalmed at the direction his brain had taken, but at least no one was watching him when the blush covered his face and neck with a layer of ice crystals.

Bunny smirked at him when he next glanced at the lagomorph.

Okay, so _he’d_ noticed. Jack was going to die of emotions today, he just _knew_ it.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

The rest of the party went along without any surprises. Thankfully. Two-and-a-half were more than enough for one day. Although, really, figuring out - rather, having it pointed out - that he had a crush back on Frostbite was a personal surprise, and really. When had _that_ happened?

And when had the drinks gotten so alcoholic?

“I think you’re tipsy,” Jack said, and pulled the glass from Aster’s grip. “Raspberry cordial?”

“It’s got a bite,” the Pooka said. “Give it back, there’s still some left.”

Frostbite rolled his eyes, and drank the rest of the cordial. He wheezed. “Yeah. Bite. H’oh boy. If you’re drinking this stuff, Bunny, I think it’s time you got home before you get any drunker.”

Aster hissed at him. “We’re at the part of the evening where North’s actually tolerable.”

“He’s…” Jack looked to the side. “He’s drunk off his ass and talking to a… wreath? I think it’s the wreath.”

“Prolly. Like I said. Tolerable.”

“And you’re tipsy. C’mon, Cottontail. Let’s get our swag back home.”

Aster grinned. “You got me a _sword_.”

“Yup.”

“And a _crown_.”

“Also yup.”

“I got you an egg.”

“It’s a very _nice_ egg, Bunny. C’mon. Grab your shirt, too, don’t want to forget it.”

“... it’s a nice shirt.”

“D’you want to wear it to bed tonight?” Jack asked. “It’s already been washed once, so the dyes shouldn’t run or whatever the fear of unwashed clothing is.”

“... maybe. C’mon, let’s get home.”

Jack grinned and nodded. “Home.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Monday, 31 December 2012 -- The Fortress, Pico Duarte, Dominican Republic, Hispaniola, evening**

 

It was easy enough to find the other Guardians. Just look for North, who was wearing some of the gaudiest clothing Aster had _ever_ had misfortune to see - he swore he would never look at that shade of red the same way _ever_ again - and head that way. Tooth and Sandy were keeping North company, with their own Guards in attendance.

Quetza looked to have done his best to out-do North in the ‘gaudy and tasteless’ arena, only with feathers and jewelry and- Aster winced, and resolved not to look directly at either of them the entire night. His poor eyes.

“Where’s Jack?” he asked, once he was close enough shouting wasn’t necessary.

“Not with you?” Quetza asked.

Aster grunted. “Said he was going on ahead.”

Well. Those expressions were… interesting. Same way a snake’s warning hiss coming from right underfoot was interesting. Good thing North and Tooth were looking just as wary as he felt, ‘cause otherwise he’d have suspected the lot of them of pulling a prank.

Sandy was busy chatting away with Hypnos, if those flashes of purple light were any indication.

Kern wandered over. “Jack’ll be along in a minute. He’s getting _dressed_.” The cervidae shared a look with the serpent. They both grinned.

That didn’t make Aster worry. Nope. Not at all.

He glared at Kern, for lack of any better response. “What’re _you_ doing here?” he asked. “In this group. Right now.”

“It just so happens I’m _friends_ with Quetza; shocking, I know. _And_ we’re mostly off-duty. Do I need a better reason?”

Aster shifted so he was facing the idiot squarely; chin up and shoulders back so he looked a smidge larger than he normally did. “Guess not.”

Kern smirked at him, but before Aster could respond to that obvious provocation, Jack walked in.

And Aster forgot how to talk. Barely remembered how to stay upright.

Because Jack walked in and his first reaction was somewhere along the lines of “ _he’s not wearing any clothes”_. His second reaction was somewhere further south than his brain, but no less immediate, or insistent.

The entrance was a crowd stopper, by pure dint of the… dress. Jack was wearing a dress. If you could call that tiny scrap of fabric anything other than, say, an extra small _towel_ or something.

The dress was blue, mostly. And Aster thought the inspiration was oriental. A Chinese cheongsam, maybe, only those were supposed to go… lower. Lower down. Cover more leg.

What Jack was wearing barely covered his _ass_.

He’d… never quite taken the time to appreciate Jack’s legs. His long, pale, slender, muscular, attractive-

_Whoa. Down boy._

Kilts hid a variety of sins, and he gave a quick mental thanks for the impulse that had him wearing one for the New Years party. Because otherwise he’d be putting on a bit of a show of his own.

The hem of the dress, about level with the top of Jack’s thighs, was embroidered with white thread, looking a bit like Jack’s usual frost patterns on his sweater. The dress was a darker blue than the sweater, closer to a midnight shade, though it glistened and shone where it caught the light, sliding through all the different shades.

There were buttons on the front of the dress. Probably to hide, or at least downplay, Jack’s lack of a bust, as if that mattered. And the high collar only accented how long Jack’s neck was, and graceful, and the cliche of ‘swan-like’ ran through the back of Aster’s mind until he wanted to smack himself somewhere painful.

The dress didn’t have any sleeves, which meant Jack’s arms were on full display.

His hands itched for paints and brushes, to capture this moment. His loins ached for an entirely different activity.

Jack smirked as he surveyed the room, and then began sauntering towards Aster.

Correction, towards the small group of Guardians and their Guards, not Aster _specifically_.

_Right?_

“Hey,” Jack said, and reached over to close Tooth’s mouth. “What do you think?” He did a quick twirl, and raised his arms, which also raised the hem of the dress…

Aster let go with a strangled squeak and then dropped his ears, embarrassed.

“Ah, Jack always does this,” Quetza said, and shrugged. “You look good. Kind of like a slut- please don’t hit me,” he said, turning to Tooth. “He wants to, it’s on purpose, Odin gets this little vein pulsing in his temple and we’re betting on what it’ll take for an apoplexy. The fake breasts didn’t do it.”

Fake… _what_?

Jack turned and smiled at him. “Hey Bunny.”

“Uh, hi.”

_I am an idiot. ‘Hi’? The fuck’s wrong with me?_

Jack turned to wave at someone else who called a greeting and Aster got to watch the dress shift across the teen’s ass.

_Ah. Right._ That’s _what’s wrong with me._

He cleared his throat. “So, ah, Jack…”

“Yes?” Jack tilted his head to the side.

“Crossdress often? Or only for special occasions?” Why’d he ask such a stupid question?

“Every New Years, Christian and Chinese, yup!” Jack smoothed a hand over his hip, because the dress didn’t reach down to his thigh, and grinned. “And a few other parties if I’m made to go. Do you like it?”

Aster froze. He couldn’t help the appreciative, and appraising, glance as he ran his eyes up and down Jack’s body, or the purr. Jack blushed frostily under his scrutiny.

“I think he likes it,” Kern muttered. He’d moved back, so when Aster turned to glare at him, he was out of easy punching reach.

“Well, uh, good to know,” Jack said, and brushed frost off his cheeks. “So, um, I’m just going to go say ‘hi’ to the other Regents. I’ll be right back.”

Aster watched Jack walk away, unable to tear his gaze from that- that- oh thank El-Ahrairah, someone stepped in the way. He resolutely ignored the pang of regret at the obstructed view.

“I’ve, uh, got something to do real quick,” he said. “I’ll be right back too.”

He also resolutely ignored Kern’s and Quetza’s snickering. He also told himself he was blissfully unaware of Tooth’s giggling as he strode out of the great hall and headed for the medical ward.

That list was still on the wall, and he had an addition he needed to make.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

Jack wasn’t quite sure what had caused the argument between him and Odin; one minute, they’d been discussing some random subject - he couldn’t remember exactly what, now - and the next, they’d been arguing heatedly over how often Jack got injured, and how badly, and things had gone downhill, fast.

“Injuries happen, old man! What gives?” Jack shouted, noting absently out of the corner of his eye that Bunny had returned. _Wonder what he wandered off to do?_

“Not so _many_! Not in so short a time! Goddamn it, Jack, keep this up and no one will have to _try_ to kill you. You’ll just fuck up and die without help!”

“Why do you care so much? I’m just another Agent! We all risk our lives on a daily basis!”

Odin looked furious. More, he looked _scared_. That alone would have shaken Jack out of his defensive bristling - he was not going to fuck up, he was one of the best Agents in WINTER - but, well. The old man had a way of throwing him for a loop.

“You’re my _grandson_!” Odin bellowed. He’d trained his voice to carry over battlefields; the small, relatively quiet party was no contest.

Jack stopped and stared, gaping at the old god. There were quite a few gasps, but he paid them no heed. “I- _what?_ ”

Odin flinched back, and then gestured towards a side door. “Through there,” he growled. “And for Polaris’ sake, boy, can’t you cover up?”

Jack sighed. “Not the most important thing right now….”

He couldn’t help the glance he shot over his shoulder at Bunny, who looked - not confused or surprised? What the hell?

Odin led the way to a small conference room, which meant there was only room for twenty people or so at the table, and slammed a fist against the wall. “Baldr took a mortal wife,” he snapped. “And that child took one too. In England.”

“... what? I- I don’t know what to say. How- how long have you known?”

“I suspected, but Manny confirmed it when I confronted him about choosing you as a Guardian,” Odin growled. This time he slammed his fist down on the table. The legs snapped, and the entire thing fell to the floor. Weyland wasn’t going to like that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jack asked. He almost winced at how small and hurt his voice sounded. “You- you know how much I wanted a _family_.”

“All it did was make official something that was currently _un_ official. And you know it.”

Jack sighed, and slumped against one heavy chair. “That’s not the point and _you_ know it.”

“How would knowing you have my cursed blood in your veins make things better?” Odin snarled. “That you might be a _berserker_? How?”

Jack growled at that. “So _that’s_ why Bunny was concerned about my battle rage. You told _him_ , but not _me?_ ”

“He guessed.” For lack of the table, Odin punched the wall again.

Jack paused. Well, he always knew Bunny was smart. He resolutely ignored the curl of warmth that shot through him at the thought. “Not the point. I would have liked to know my _father figure_ was _actually_ blood. And that I basically have brothers, or uncles, or whatever Thor and Loki want to be called!” He was shouting. When did he start shouting?

“A pain in the ass, if you ask Loki,” Odin muttered. “Isn’t that always his answer?”

Despite himself, Jack laughed. “Y’know what, old man? C’mere.”

“Why?” Odin folded his arms, and looked as dangerous as he knew how. Considering how long they’d known each other, the effect didn’t work so well on Jack.

Jack squirmed his way under those arms regardless, and hugged the old coot.

“Oh.” Odin hesitated, and then patted Jack on one shoulder overly cautiously. “Alright then. Are you finished?”

Jack squeeze harder a moment, and then let go. “Next time you find out something like this, _tell me_. Please? I don’t like being left in the dark; need I remind you that Manny did that to me, and, had you lot not found me, I’d have likely spent a good three hundred years wondering what the hell that crazy guy wanted?”

“Manny’s fucked in the head,” Odin pronounced. “Yes, Jack, I know.”

“I won’t argue that.” Jack said, and nodded. “So, are we good?”

“I would say we’re good.”

Someone cleared their throat. Jack glanced over his shoulder. “Bunny?”

“Is there something you need, Rabbit?” Odin growled.

“Well. Seeing as how everything’s out in the open now, I have a question for you two.”

Odin raised his eyebrows, and glowered at Bunny. “ _What_?”

“I would like to formally ask permission to Court your grandson, honored elder god.”

Jack’s breath caught in the back of his throat, and his eyes went wide. He looked from Odin, who was glowering fit to set the world on fire, to Bunny, who was standing tall and proud and wearing a kilt- _how_ had Jack missed that?

… Was he wearing underwear too? Jack kind of really wanted to know the answer to that.

Jack turned a hopeful gaze on Odin. His _grandfather_. Oh boy, that was going to take some getting used to.

“And _why_ ,” Odin growled, “Should I grant you permission? _Rabbit_.”

“I’d like to think that I have already proven I can take care of Jack. The rest is just apples.”

“You are a different species. The same gender.” Odin paused, and added, “ _Old_.”

Jack kicked Odin’s shin reproachfully.

“Quiet, boy.”

“Doesn’t seem to bother him much, if you cared to ask.” Bunny twitched an ear nervously, though, so clearly Jack’s insane grandfather was getting to him.

“For the record, it doesn’t. Kind of hot, actually.”

Odin looked pained. “Very well.”

Jack did _not_ squeal happily. Not at all.

He _did_ , however, run across the room, and pounce on Bunny, hugging him tightly.

“Best New Year’s ever!”

“Ya think, cobber?”

Jack looked up and grinned. “Yeah. Got a boyfriend _and_ a grandfather.”

Bunny smiled softly. “Too right. Want to go home and talk?”

Jack laughed and nodded. “Home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Christmas was much fun, but The Dress is my favorite part. I will now leave you to imagine Jack in said Dress and really high heels. You're welcome!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Only took nineteen chapters for them to get together. Let's see how long it takes for the next stage."


	20. Chapter 20

**Monday, 31 December 2012 -- Warren, late evening**

Jack followed along after Bunny, a dreamy little smile curving his lips. He was still wearing his latest dress, which was _definitely_ a success, between Odin’s eye twitching away and Bunny’s appreciative glances. Yeah. He was keeping this one. It was much better than the thing with the bustle and the corset from a century ago.

He did hesitate, though, when they got to the hallway. His room was right there, but Bunny’s was further down, and was he expected to follow Bunny all the way to the nest - and once there, how far would things get? - or did Bunny figure on Jack sleeping in his own room, at least for the next little bit.

Not that Jack minded, either way, he just wanted to _know_.

Because yes, by all that was good and holy, he really, _really_ wanted to share Bunny’s nest. Really a lot. It’d been the subject of plenty of fantasies, to be honest, and idle daydreams, and it was just a really good thing Sandy couldn’t read people’s dreams when he hadn’t jumpstarted them with his sand, because Jack wouldn’t be able to look the Dreamweaver in the eye ever again, otherwise.

His dreams had maybe been a bit explicit. Or a lot. And creative, no need to forget that.

He bit his lower lip, and looked from his bedroom door to Aster’s back, and debated just stopping, or continuing on. What’d be better, expectation or rejection?

Bunny continued down the hallway, pausing only once he got to his doorway. He called back over his shoulder, “You coming, Snowflake? Or would you rather sleep in your bed tonight?”

“If you want me to,” Jack said. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind, either way, it’s cool, really.”

He glanced back over his shoulder and grinned. That was really all the invitation that Jack needed. Right?

He’d never been this nervous in his imagination. Jack cleared his throat, and followed after Bunny to the nest. It wasn’t like he hadn’t slept with Bunny before. Only that’d been actual _sleeping_ , not anything more acrobatic and athletic. And it’d been when completely exhausted, or when Bunny was completely exhausted, and… yeah. Nerves. They were there. Huzzah!

His furry companion dropped the kilt to the floor and flopped onto the nest of blankets and pillows in one smooth motion, rolled over, and then gazed at Jack like he was the next thing on the menu.

“As much as I might like t’jump you right here and now, Jackie,” Bunny said, pausing to let out a long sigh, seemingly reeling in his libido. “I shouldn’t. It’s not proper courtship behavior. But- sleeping together and- and cuddling, since you seem so fond of it, are acceptable even this early. Whatcha think?”

“Maybe I don’t want proper courtship behavior.” Jack fiddled with the top button on his dress.

Bunny sputtered for a moment, before appearing to gather himself. “Maybe I don’t either, but you’ve any idea what Odin’d be allowed to do if we went outside the forms so fast?”

“Well, yeah. WINTER’s got laws about that. And paperwork.” Jack undid the first button, and began playing with the second. “Y’know, there’s forms that’ll let us get around the full courtship rituals, if you want…”

“You have no idea how much I-”

“I _do_.”

Jack stripped off the dress, so that he stood mostly bare in just a bit of light panties - anything else would’ve caused panty lines - and the heels he’d worn with the dress. His _interest_ was therefore quite visible. “I’ve been in love with you for several decades now,” he said.

Bunny sucked in a sharp breath at his admission, eyes visibly dilating as they raked over his form. “Well… I don’t rightly know what to say to that. But I like what I see.”

“That’s a relief.” Jack hooked a thumb under the panties, and raised his eyebrows. “Want to see more?”

If Bunny had nodded his head any faster, it would have been liable to fall off. _Well_. Enthusiasm was _very_ much appreciated.

Jack grinned, and skimmed the panties off. He considered the heels, but decided to leave them on for the moment. “So,” he said, and knelt at the side of the nest. “How, uh, how prepared are you for… things?” Lube was important. Jack wasn’t too sure about condoms; it wasn’t like they had to worry about diseases or pregnancy. They were spirits, to the first, and both male to the second.

“I, ah,” Bunny started, stopping to gape. His eyes seemed glued to Jack’s erection. “Right. Um. Sooo… okay. I, ah… we shouldn’t go too far. I, ah, yeah. That’d be a bit much, for a first time. I _really_ want to do things proper, but… hands. Yes, hands.”

Jack paused, with one shoe off. “Hands?”

Bunny twitched from watching Jack take the shoes off - was he staring at his _feet_? - and glanced up to look Jack in the eye. “Hands. Yes. Keep it to hands, just hands, and we can, ah, skirt the rules a smidge. Paperwork later?”

Ooooooh, _hands_! “Bunny,” Jack purred, “I like the way you think.”

“Aster.”

“Flowers… huh? We need flowers?”

“‘m name, ya larrikin, is Aster. Should call me proper, considering….” The Pooka gestured between them.

“Aster,” Jack said, voice low and sultry, testing out the word. Bunny - no, _Aster_ \- shuddered faintly at the way Jack said his name. “That’s a _very_ good idea, Aster.”

He crawled into the nest, until he was right next to Aster, and then hesitated. Beside, or on top, or…?

Aster reached out and pulled him close, nuzzling his hair with his chin. Well, that decided things.

“I know what that means,” Jack murmured, and pulled back just enough to look Aster in the eye. “Do Pooka kiss, too?”

“Mmm?” Aster purred, momentarily caught up in the moment of marking and missing Jack’s question. “ _Mine_.”

“Very much so,” Jack agreed, heart pounding. Okay. Possessive rabbit. Good thing he liked a little possessiveness. “So. Going to kiss what’s yours?”

He purred louder, if that was even possible, and pulled back. “It’s a might awkward, considering our differences, but _yes_.”

And, _oh_ , did he.

It wasn’t that awkward, either. Jack didn’t think it’d be a good idea to explain why; even he knew better than to bring up former flings in bed. If he’d learned one thing about Aster and Kern’s relationship, the less he mentioned Kern around the Pooka, the better. He should maybe work on that - and _why_ was he thinking about that at a time like _this?_

The kiss was… well, okay, not the absolute best he’d ever experienced, but they had ‘first time’ awkwardness to work through, as well as adjusting to each other’s differences. Still, it was _good_. The nibbling on his lip was a nice bonus.

And now the nibbling was traveling down his jaw. No, neck. Aster paused at the join of neck and shoulder and _bit_.

Jack squeaked, and bucked against Aster’s hip. “Again,” he gasped, and pulled on handfuls of Aster’s fur. “Again, again, again!”

Aster hummed his appreciation and trailed light nips across his collarbone to the other join, before biting again.

“Oh, Polaris,” Jack gasped, and then his conscious kicked him in the mental butt. Aster was doing all the work, and that wasn’t fair at all. _Time to take up some of the slack, Agent Frostbite…_

He started with running his hands over Aster’s shoulders, fingers working through the dense fur to the skin underneath.

_Oh. Oh wow._

Muscles. Logically, he knew they were there, and he’d even felt them previously, if briefly, but now… _now_ he could really appreciate them. His hands trailed through the fur, following the outlines of the muscles, drifting down over his pectorals, and- and then he found a pair of hard nubs. Pooka had nipples too?

Well, yes, obviously they did, and just as obviously Aster liked having his nipples touched, if the pleased hissing was any indication. Jack pressed his thumbs to the hard nubs, and then began stroking his nipples in circles. “Aster,” he groaned, and bucked up against the Pooka’s thigh again.

“Yes?”

“C-can you use your hands?” Jack stuttered as the Pooka laved the most recent bite mark, closer to his shoulder. His upper body was going to be a mess of hickies, later.

_No complaints here…._

“As you wish, Snowflake.”

And then there were hands _everywhere_. Following the contours of his stomach, teasing his own nipples, trailing, feather-light, up and down his sides… Jack was awash in sensation. And the _fur_! It added so many more layers to the what he was feeling, he only now realized what he’d been missing out on with his previous partner being only half-furry.

“Aster!” Jack clutched the Pooka’s shoulders, hard enough to leave bruises, and bit back sounds that he wasn’t quite comfortable making in Aster’s ears yet. “Just-” He forgot what he was going to say when Aster tweaked one nipple.

“Yes, Jackie? You were sayin’?” Aster asked innocently, smirk firmly in place.

_Cheeky bastard._

Jack smirked back, and skimmed his hands down Aster’s spine - which caused some delicious shudders all on it’s own - until he was able to wrap one hand around that sinfully fluffy tail and tweak it.

To call the sound Aster made a moan would _never_ do it justice. The sound vibrated through Jack even as it echoed around the room, sending frissons of sensation all it’s own through his body.

“Ah, Jack!” Aster panted. “That’s a- a _really_ sensitive spot. Y’do that again, things might get a bit messy. Fast. Wouldn- wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

“Maybe I would.” Jack pressed his head back into the pillows and groaned. “Maybe I _really, really_ would.” Not like he was going to last much longer. It’d been a while since he’d last been touched this much.

Jack already knew how crazy mere physical contact made him.

So he tweaked the tailbase again.

Aster made _that sound_ again, and came, untouched, all over Jack’s stomach.

The Pooka _growled_ and one hand snaked down immediately to Jack’s own erection. It only took a few pumps of his hand to bring Jack over the edge as well.

He collapsed on top of Jack almost immediately afterwards, panting.

When he regained his breath, he said, “Ya right, Jackie?”

“Move,” Jack muttered, “and I’ll kill you. I’m a Regent. I know ways.” He rubbed his cheek against Aster’s. “Sleep now.”

“The mess’ll be impossible to get out of my fur if we don’t do something about it now.” Despite his protest, Aster didn’t move.

“Bath in the morning,” Jack promised. “I’ll help. Sleep now, though.”

Aster’s pleased purring was the last thing Jack remembered before he drifted off.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Tuesday, 1 January 2013 -- Warren, late morning**

Bathtime was _fun_. Jack hummed to himself, ready to all but skip down the hallway if not for Aster’s arm, heavy and warm and smelling faintly of the herb-scented soap from the ‘quick scrub’, draped across his shoulder.

Scrub, yes, but it hadn’t been quick. Jack may or may not have indulged in a half-formed fantasy of him, Aster, a bath, and _urges_. Aster may or may not have encouraged him with a great deal of enthusiasm.

“You just take a seat, Snowflake, and I’ll get brekkies ready. There’s still some of the oatmeal mix left, if ya want?” Aster said as they entered the kitchen.

Jack licked his lips, and let his eyes linger suggestively on Aster. “Oh, I’m sure I could eat _something_ ,” he said, and licked his lips again.

The answering kiss, and accompanying purr, promised many things. “You are insatiable. Sit.”

_Damn._

He dutifully took his seat, leaning back to place his bare feet against the edge of the table, balancing on the rear legs of the chair, and began rocking gently. Aster glanced over his shoulder and froze for a long moment as he gazed upon Jack’s nakedness.

“What?” Jack tilted his head to the side. “Like what you see?”

Rather than answering verbally, Aster turned slightly to the side. He was peeking _already_.

“That’s a yes,” Jack murmured to himself.

Smirking, Aster turned back to his cooking. “Brekkies first. You’ll need your strength to keep up with a _rabbit_.”

“So many things I could say to that,” Jack pointed out. “In the interests of challenging you, though, I think I’ll keep quiet.”

Aster chuckled, but otherwise remained silent while he cooked. Though the near constant glances over his shoulder to rake his gaze up and down Jack’s body were very pleasing. And maybe a bit arousing.

Someone knocked on the door.

Jack frowned, and straightened up in his chair. “What?” He looked over at Aster. “Who…?”

The door banged open without them going to answer.

“Brother Jack! Shieldbrother Bunnymund! We have come to pass on the congratulations and warnings of our leader and father, Odin of WINTER!” Thor ducked to get in through the doorway, beaming. “I have brought the traditional mead to be drunk on the culmination of courtship!”

Jack yelped and covered his half-hardness, frosty blush swiftly traveling from his cheeks down his neck and chest. “Thor!”

“And Loki, dear nephew.” The trickster was smirking at him as he came around the corner. Another cheeky bastard, but Jack already knew that.

“Brother,” Thor corrected Loki. “Jack is now our brother, Loki.” He beamed, and dropped a good sized cask of what was probably mead to the floor.

“As the offspring of Baldr’s loins, he’s our _nephew._ Here, Jack,” Loki said as he tossed a cloth-something at him. “A gift.”

The cloth-something turned out to be a cloak. Jack wrapped it around his waist like a towel. “Thanks.”

Of course, Thor chose that moment to grab Aster in a giant bearhug and lift him up off his feet. “And you must call me brother as well!”

Aster growled and flailed. Thor ignored him until the wooden spoon caught him on the nose. He laughed, and dropped the Pooka, wiping the bit of damp oatmeal off of his face. “Aye, you will make a fine match to my brother Jack! And now, we drink!”

“Hold on there, ya drongo! We’re just sitting down to brekkies and no self-respecting Pooka’d ever _drink_ before brekkies!” Aster complained as he finished up the bowls of oatmeal. “Brekkies first. Drink later.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Jack muttered. “Thor, Loki- _get out_. I’m not even going to be polite, just _go_. Now. Or _else_.”

“Come now, _nephew_. Surely-” Loki began.

“No!” Jack turned to Thor. “Look, if you and what’s-her-name-”

“Jane,” Thor muttered.

“-yeah her. If you ever came to an agreement, would you want anyone to just barge in and start yammering on and on? No, you’d want privacy. Go!”

“Perchance, we should return in an hour’s time?” Loki offered.

“Three days,” Jack demanded. “Three days, and that’s if I give the okay. Actually, no, neither of you are welcome in the Warren, you’d break everything, or steal it - I know you too well, _Loki_ \- family meetings will be at HQ and _not_ here.”

The two gods complained a bit more after that, but were eventually ushered out successfully. Jack called Kern to make sure they actually _left_.

“The nerve of some people,” Aster muttered when Jack returned, once again sans clothing.

“I should’ve expected this. Loki was in it for embarrassing me, Thor’s just… enthusiastic. I really, _really_ hope his girlfriend trains him out of it.”

The Pooka chuckled and started eating. They settled into a companionable silence, intermittently eyeing each other with varying degrees of growing interest. If Jack had his way, they’d be getting up to more ‘activities’ as soon as the bowls were empty.

_We’ll see how long it takes to break his control and get him between my legs._ Jack grinned at the thought, humming happily.

“What’cha so pleased about, Snowflake?”

Jack grinned in reply. “Plans. Plans and plots. And paperwork, for once. I figure I can knock that particular form off, in triplicate, and get it filed before Odin finds out.”

Did Aster’s eyes dilate a bit, or was that just wishful thinking on his part?

“So… up for some more _fun_?” Jack asked coyly, tilting his head so he had to look at Aster through his bangs.

The slightly strangled sound his partner made was _very_ pleasing, though what he said next wasn’t quite as titillating. “Uh, right. I, uh, not to say _no_ , but we- we should talk first.”

“Talk?” Jack stopped looking up through his bangs. “About what?” And _why_?

“Us. This thing between us. Relationship stuff. Courtship. Y’know?”

“But why?” Jack whined. “I don’t… we don’t need courtship, really, do we? Because seriously, Aster, snap your fingers and I’m yours, vapor trail to the nest with a sign around my neck saying ‘take me now’.”

The Pooka shuddered, full-body, and half-rose from his chair before catching himself. “You- right. No. We need to _talk_ first.” He sat back down. Pity. “Figuring out what the heck we’re doing with this ‘us’ and where it’s supposed t’go. I demand at least _that_ much adherence to the rules. And would - what do you kids call them these days… dates? - yes, dates. Would those be such a bad thing to do? I’m not generally the kind to just hop in bed with _anyone_.”

“As long as we end up in bed, we can do whatever, I don’t care.”

Aster sighed heavily. “You’re trying my patience, Jackie.”

“In a good way?”

He chuckled. “‘Spose so, ya larrikin. But I insist that we move at the pace _I_ find comfortable, which means not just jumping in bed and have a naughty or fifty. I like you - quite a lot, actually, much as that still surprises me - and I want to do right by you. Is that too much to ask?” Aster’s serious tone made it obvious that this was important to him. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“I don’t think there’s a possible way for you to mess this up,” Jack admitted. “At least not on my end. Alright. Serious conversation, serious face, I should probably put on pants.”

Aster laughed. Jack was abruptly reminded how much of a turn on that sound was. The Pooka noticed this time, too, and quirked an eyebrow at Jack inquiringly.

“I like your laugh. A lot,” he said, and hoped his nod was enough of a gesture towards his groin.

“So I _see_.” He stood, and moved around the table. Jack did _not_ squeak when he was abruptly picked up. “Want to take care of your little ‘problem’ before we set about the day?”

“Yeah, serious talks can wait. My little ‘problem’ would just be too distracting.” He looped his arms around Aster’s neck, and pressed his nose to the Pooka’s neck. “You smell nice.”

“‘Nice’? What’s that supposed to mean, ‘nice’? Such a bland word, ‘nice’.”

“In this case,” Jack said, and kissed Aster’s jaw. “It means take me to bed and have your wicked way with me.”

Aster sucked in a breath at Jack’s tone. “Righto, Jackie.”

Jack grinned. It was too easy, sometimes.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Tuesday, 1 January 2013 -- Warren, midafternoon**

After several ejaculations in a row, Jack was one _very_ relaxed sprite. Too excited to sleep, it seemed, but quite mellow. Aster chuckled as he took in the sight of Jack reclining in his - no, _their -_ nest. Jack rolled his head lazily towards him at the sound.

“How do you think things would go if we just stayed here for a while?” he asked.

A slow grin spreading across his face, Aster stalked forward. “Well, I expect you’d tire long before I would, for a start, _mate_.”

“Probably.” Jack lifted one hand and made grabby motions. “Just cuddling. Promise. Wow, that was good, but _wow_ , am I tired.”

“‘S what you get for sleeping with fertility symbols.” Aster flopped down next to Jack, who promptly latched onto his fur, crawling half on top of him and sighing contentedly, before ceasing his wiggling. “Though I expect you know that already.”

“You’re my favorite symbol,” Jack promised. “Pined over you and everything.”

“Did you now? You mentioned something ‘bout that last night. Care to elaborate?” Aster was quite curious, given their history, just how Jack could have fallen for an old codger like himself, especially considering the way he’d treated the bloke in the past.

“Well,” Jack murmured. He stroked his fingers through Aster’s chest fur. “My job was to watch you. And I happened to like what I saw. A lot. To the point where Kern broke up with me, ‘cause I happened to yell the wrong name during sex.”

“You what?” Well, that was - flattering, actually. And if he felt a bit more than smug the next time he was around the deer… he had reason. “How’d the bloke take it?”

“Pretty well; Kern isn’t exactly one for monogamy. He had… five? Six? A few other Agents who were more than happy to sleep with him, and he knows _my_ feelings on the subject, so…”

Aster grunted. “Bloke needs to learn to keep it in his pants. He thinks with his donger too much.”

“He doesn’t wear pants, actually. And yeah, I guess he does, most of the time.” Jack yawned. “It’s not so bad.”

“So. Now that I have ya tuckered out, think we can talk serious-like?” Aster smirked when Jack groaned.

“Do we have to? I don’t… serious talks give me hives.”

“Well,” Aster drawled, giving the word a few syllables more than usual. “If you can make it through the talk, we can always experiment with my _tongue_.”

“Uh. Tongue. Tongue?” Jack lifted his head, and blinked several times. “Only if we can experiment with mine after.”

Aster grinned. “Deal.”

“So,” Jack said, and lowered his head back down onto Aster’s chest. “What, um. What do you want to talk about?”

“For starters, how will this affect our working relationship? I mean, you're my bodyguard, more or less. And I know you’ve mentioned things about regulations and such that supposedly get in the way. Not that you seem to truly care, which fits your ‘rules? what rules?’ philosophy perfectly, I might add.”

Jack snickered, and rubbed his cheek against Aster’s fur. “Rules suck, except when following them is more fun. For the record. The rest… I haven’t really thought about it.”

“It wasn’t uncommon, back in the day-”

“Which ‘back in the day’?” Jack asked. “Me? Or you, Methuselah?”

“Me, you drongo. Speaking of, you _do_ know how old I am, right?” Aster queried, only slightly worried. His extreme age had been a factor before in past failed relationships. Most people couldn’t even _fathom_ how long he’d been alive.

“More or less?” Jack shrugged. “Not that I care. I mean, you’re old enough Odin starts making this choking sound and Loki wants to pick your brain or maybe get a sample of blood because of _reasons_ , I don’t know…”

“Well, in the interest of complete honesty… how old do you _think_ I am?”

“Pangea?” Jack suggested, sounding like he was joking.

Aster quirked an eyebrow at him. “Older.”

“ _Old-_ uh. What?”

“Y’know the Moon?”

“You know I know Manny,” Jack grumbled.

“Not him, ya gumby. The satellite itself.”

“Giant rock in the sky orbiting Earth. What about it?”

“I saw it form. Huge impact, that. Poor Orpheus.”

Jack lifted his head again. “Who? Wait, _really_? I thought that was a really big explosion?”

“And what caused it, mate? Your human scientists basically have it right with their ‘giant impact hypothesis’, minus a few minor details. Small planetesimal, sized about Mars, bounced off Earth. The bit that popped off made the Moon. Manny arrived quite a bit later, after everything had cooled off.”

“But you were _here_?”

Aster eyed Jack worriedly. “Yes, I was. Arrived just in time for the fireworks, too.”

Jack hummed, and shifted until he was lying fully on Aster, hands folded and chin resting on them instead of digging into the Pooka’s sternum. “Okay,” he said, after a bit.

“Okay?” Aster repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jack shifted again, enough to free up one hand and cup Aster’s cheek with it. “It means ‘okay’. That might change if you reveal, I don’t know, a daddy kink or something. Because I’m not going to call you ‘daddy’ during sex. _Ever_.”

Aster snorted a laugh. “Yeah, no. Not ever. No worries there, mate. So, it’s good?”

“I’m sure I’ll think up stuff to ask when my brain’s working again,” Jack promised. He smiled. “But not right now.”

“Well. Let me just say that the Hadean was hell, and leave it at that? Took me yonks to find a place to land that wasn’t _magma ocean._ ”

Jack hummed, and nuzzled the base of his throat. “Anything I can do to distract you from bad memories?”

“Yes. Answer my bleeding questions. You already distracted me from the main point of this conversation.” He smiled despite himself; Jack didn’t care about his age.

That was a first. It was… nice.

“I kind of forgot what we were talking about,” Jack admitted.

“Us, you yobbo.” Aster lightly flicked Jack’s forehead with one finger. “So. Where do you see this relationship going? You in it just for the fun and games, or…?”

Jack glowered at him. “If there aren’t any fun and games, I’ll revolt, but… no. I… Okay.” He breathed out, and closed his eyes. “I’d… maybe see myself, a few decades or centuries in the future, um… with you. And _with_ you. Y’know?”

Aster blinked. “Oh. Well. Um. _Oh_. I mean, I’d kind of hoped this wasn’t just a fling, but… okay.” He smiled at Jack. “I think I’d like that.”

“Oh, good.” Jack all but melted on top of him. “Because I know I will.”

They laid in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Jack spoke up, murmuring against his chest fur, “Would it be weird if I asked you to pet me?”

“Like this?” Aster asked, purposely scritching at the teen’s spine instead of what he knew he was being asked.

“Hair, doofus.”

“Ah, like this?” He rubbed, without claws, the indicated area, smiling innocently all the while.

Jack growled, and dug the tips of his fingers into Aster’s pectorals. “Bu- _nny_ …”

Aster flicked his blunt claws out and scratched at Jack’s scalp. Jack groaned, and eased up on the bruising pressure.

“Like that, do you?” Aster chuckled faintly. “I seem to remember certain _reactions_ during bath time….”

“Yeah. I like having my hair touched,” Jack admitted. “It, um. It’s nice.”

“Once again, ‘nice’ doesn’t exactly describe the _thing_ poking me in the thigh.” Aster’s grin turned feral. “Got any other… _kinks_ I should know about?”

“Hey!” Jack hid his face - in Aster’s chest, which was a touch counter-productive - and cleared his throat. “They’re not kinks. Just… stuff I like.”

“The definition of a kink is something you like. Sexually. And you said ‘kinks’. _Plural_.”

“Ass.” Jack made to roll off him.

“You like it.” Aster gripped Jack’s butt firmly to prevent the roll.

“Well, it is very firm and grippable,” the winter spirit admitted. “But… It’s not weird, okay? The stuff isn’t… weird.”

“Of course not. Here, why don’t we trade? Kink for kink?”

Jack looked up at him, at that. “You-? Uh. Sure. Um, I shared one. Your turn.”

Aster quirked an eyebrow. “You did, at that. Well…” He paused and lifted his head a bit, looking down the length of Jack’s body to gaze at the foot that was idly kicking in the air above Jack’s back. “Your feet.”

Jack twisted to look at the limbs in question. “What about them?”

“They’re just so… _distracting._ I… maybe want to lick them, sometimes.” Aster was blushing, he could _feel_ it. “And it’s just _your_ feet that do that to me.”

“Oh.” Jack wiggled his toes, and grinned. “Yeah?”

Aster knew that his eyes must have dilated when Jack wiggled his toes. “Yeah. We can… explore that later, maybe? It’s your turn.”

“Right. Right.” Jack lowered his foot, and folded his arms over Aster’s chest again. “Um. Fur.”

Aster cocked his head. “Really?” He mused over this revelation for a moment, before nodding. “Well. That at least explains the pattern. Two for two, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Actually, Kern was more because of boredom and near death… stuff.” Jack cleared his throat and looked down. “The fur thing… I just like the feel, okay? And, um, it’s from… when I was alive.”

“Oh? That sounds either very promising or very disturbing, depending on where you’re going with this.”

“Intelligence is a must.” Aster nodded. “But I had a…. kind of a boyfriend? Not that we actually… but he wore this vest? And, um, yeah. It’s just the touch and feel, Aster, not…”

“Not that you're a ‘furry’. Yeah, I get it. Okay. Your skin.”

“My skin?” Jack tilted his head to the side. “Like your fur for me?”

“Somewhat. It’s just so… pale and unblemished and… and _perfect_.” Aster shifted awkwardly, before saying quickly, “And I maybe want to paint on you sometime.”

Jack blinked several times. “Okay.”

Aster blinked in turn. “What, really? I thought that’d be a bit weird, even for you.”

“As long as it can be washed off, I don’t care. But, uh, no food. Okay? Because painting me with food would be weird, I draw the line at combining sex and dinner…”

“Actually, it’s more likely to be dessert, but I get your point. Paint is easy enough to get out of fur - at least, what I use - but food is too messy. Anything else you feel like sharing?”

Jack smirked at him. “I like watching you kick butt and take names. It’s very… dominate.”

Aster purred. “You like it when I’m… _dominant?_ ” He rolled them over abruptly, pinning Jack to the cushions, before drawling slowly, “Is that so?”

Jack tilted his head to the side, and smiled. “Well, why don’t you put some effort into finding out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "-offers tissues- For nosebleeds, tears, or tearing into bits for confetti so you can toss it in the air in celebration."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "So. Finally with The Sex. Well, sort of. They'll be a bit before they get to the Main Event, but that's just more fun. Right?" *sly grin*


	21. Chapter 21

**Friday, 4 January 2013 -- Warren, evening**

Aster glared at the pair of pants in Jack’s hand, and considered snatching them away. And maybe burning them. “We don’t have to go.”

Jack frowned, and pulled the pants on. “If we don’t, they’ll invade. You really want that?”

No. No he did not. “I like it better when you’re wearing your other outfit.”

“Because I’m naked then.” Jack pulled on his hoodie next. “You do realize I have absolutely no problem going out in public, _naked_? For _everyone_ to see?”

Aster growled possessively and moved a half-step forward before he caught himself.

“That was you figuring out where to put the tower, wasn’t it?”

Rather than answering, he turned around and huffed, glaring at a spot on the wall. “Hurry up then and let’s get this over with. I had _plans_.”

Jack stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Aster’s waist, all but plastering himself to the Pooka’s back. “I’ve got plans for you, too,” he said. “When we get back. Trust me.” He sighed. “We’re really going to need… eh, either alcohol or sex. Or both. Probably both.”

Aster turned around in Jack’s grasp and returned the embrace, before stepping away and grabbing his old coat; they were going to the Fortress. Ergo, cold. “I’ll see what I’ve got in the wine cellar when we get back, yeah?”

“Every time you put this on,” Jack said, and fingered the coat collar. “I just want to tear it off.”

Grinning, he kissed Jack lightly before stepping out the door. “C’mon then, cobber. Sooner we get this done, sooner you can tear it off.”

 

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Friday, 4 January 2013 -- The Fortress, Baffin Bay, northwestern coast of Greenland, 10:54 am local time**

Jack seemed not to notice the chill wind blowing off the bay, but Aster was far, _far_ too aware. “Why am I here, again?” he muttered.

Jack looked amused. “Well, I’m here because paperwork, Odin’s going to yell at me for getting that one form shoved through and filed, and to collect on all the bets that’ve come due. You’re here to follow me around, apparently. You didn’t have to come, you know.”

“Sure I did,” Aster muttered as he shivered. “Gotta stake my claim in public, don’t I?”

“Anyone too dumb to know about said claim deserves what’ll happen to them.” The WINTER Agent smirked, with just a hint of teeth. “And I’d be sure not to aim them at load-bearing walls.”

Aster laughed softly. They entered the Fortress without much ado, considering all the other agents that were coming and going.

_Must be a busy season; would explain why they moved the Fortress up here again._

They hadn’t gotten more than twenty feet past the entryway before they were ambushed.

“My brothers!” Thor strode forwards, cape billowing behind him, arms wide open. Aster, to his credit, did not stop to stare in horror the way Jack did. No, he spun on the spot and immediately began walking the other way, only to go face first into what felt like a wall and looked like empty air.

_Loki…._ He growled. _What was that old saying, ‘Loki’s blue balls’? He’ll have_ no _balls when I’m done with him!_

“Jackson! Bunnymund!” An arm the size of a small tree trunk wrapped around him, and squeezed tight. Not so incidentally, said arm also lifted him up off the floor so all he could do was kick helplessly. “Well met! Well met indeed!”

“Put me down, or I oughta-”

“Come now Thor, do as the rabbit says,” Loki cut in smoothly, grinning faintly at Aster’s predicament. “No need to put on a show for the younglings.”

“What show?” The thunder god did set Aster down, but kept his arm over Aster’s shoulders. “Ah, never mind, my brother. Come! Let us drink and make merry, for as of today you are wed!”

“Jackson, if I might have a word with you?” Loki inquired, gently tugging on Jack’s sleeve to lead him away from the entry hall.

“No fucking way,” Aster wheezed, and caught Jack’s other arm. “You’re not leaving me here!” Wed? _Wed_? They weren’t wed and what the hell was Thor on?

“Thor. Firstly, we are _not_ wed. At least, not- _anyway_. And secondly, Aster, can you give me a couple minutes to see what Loki needs? I have a thing or two to discuss with him too, regarding his friends’ ‘adventures’.” Jack grinned ferally. “You know the ones.”

“... Two minutes,” Aster said. “And then I’m coming after you.”

Jack nodded and let Loki lead him off and into a side room.

That left him alone with Thor. This could _not_ go well.

Thor half-dragged him into a side room of their own, lightly - well, ‘lightly’ for Thor - pushed Aster into a stuffed chair and closed the door with an ominous, resounding ‘bang’. He then turned around, expression serious, whilst rhythmically tapping Mjolnir against one palm.

“So. Aster of Bunnymund. You are courting our Jackson, yes?”

“If by courting, you mean we’ve agreed to be monogamous with each other, yes.” Perhaps, if he was lucky, a more… stuffy way of talking would keep Thor from doing anything… foolish. With that hammer.

Thor nodded and stepped forward. “It is interesting, then, that Jackson was unclothed in your presence only a day after the courtship began, is it not? Perhaps I just worry that the proper forms are followed, yes?”

What. What was… Aster folded his arms, and looked as haughty as possible. Considering he had several billion years on this brat, and an uncomparable education, as well as his duties as the Easter Bunny and Guardian of Hope, he managed to look very haughty indeed. “Just because you do not recognize Pooka courtship patterns does not necessarily mean they were not there.”

Thor gently placed Mjolnir in Aster’s lap. “Perhaps it is true.” He wandered away, making ‘thinking’ noises.

Aster poked at Mjolnir’s handle. “Now this was quite rude of you,” he muttered. His leg was already falling ‘asleep’.

Thor hummed and half-turned to look at him. “Well. I am just worried for young Jackson’s virtue. True, he has lain with Kernunnos, but that was before it was known he was family.” Thor turned fully towards Aster. “I worry a great deal about my family. You understand, yes?”

“Get your ruddy craftsman’s hammer off my leg, Thor. Jack can worry about his own virtue, and better ‘n you can.”

Thor placed his hand on the handle. “So long as we understand each other.”

“Understand this, you neolithic brat.” Aster stood up and flexed his legs. “Jack’s a hell of a lot more dangerous to me than you are.”

Thor laughed abruptly and pulled Aster into a bear hug. “Excellent! You make a fine match for Jackson!”

Were those his _ribs_ creaking? Because that’s what it sounded like. Thor put him down only after he started struggling.

“Now, I shall go.” And with that, Thor left.

Aster growled, and brushed himself off. Now, where would Loki have taken Jack off to?

“So, Bunnymund,” drawled an all-too-familiar voice from behind him.

“Oh, bloody hell.” He rubbed a finger over the bridge of his muzzle. “It’s going to be one of _those_ days, isn’t it?” He turned around, and glared. “How’d you get in here?”

“I was _always_ here. Thor is such an overdramatic thug, is he not?” Loki grinned. “I prefer more… _subtle_ threats, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t aware ‘subtle’ was in your vocabulary.” Grenade, grenade… he’d left them back in the burrow, hadn’t he?

“Not in my vocabulary?” Loki tsked, and vanished. A hand tapped him on the back. “Subtle is my middle name, I’ll have you know.”

“I thought your middle name was ‘easy’? You sleep with everything that has legs and will take you. A few things without legs, too, if the rumors about you and Quetza are true.”

Loki chuckled. “Please, Bunnymund, no need to be crass. Now, I’ll make this easy.” He stepped back into view, as if coming out from behind a curtain. Of air. “Hurt Jack, and you won’t like what I do. Yes? Good. Now, away with you.”

Aster sighed. “I suppose you think you’re being threatening. You and Thor both. It’s cute. Really, it is. But… you’re not.”

Suddenly, Aster was surrounded by one of his worst memories for a brief moment. Bodies - _Pooka_ bodies - littered some long-forgotten battlefield and then - the plain room returned, without Loki. Though a dark laugh was echoing around the room.

Aster hid a shiver, and glared indiscriminately around the room. “Yeah. Fine. You can do that. Do that again and I’ll be telling Jack, and he’ll be holding my coat while I take your family’s numbers down by one. Bloody stupid trickster gods….”

Loki’s disembodied voice whispered, “Door’s open.”

_Arsehole!_

He stalked out of the room, and his glare actually scared off one of the junior agents in the hall. Well, good. At least someone was being respectful. Honestly! The very idea that he’d need warned to treat his own mate proper! Who did these people think he was, _Kern_? Zeus, maybe, the overgrown, psychotic man-child with the inability to accept that he wasn’t beloved and desired by _everyone_?

Next person - the very next person - who implied he’d deliberately set out to hurt Jack, he’d have to put the idiot through the _wall_.

“Bunnymund. A word, if you please?”

Aster paused, and half-turned to glare at the old god. “Question first.”

Odin inclined his head, and raised one eyebrow. “Say on.”

“Is this word going to imply Jack’s incapable of taking care of himself and I’m going to callously go out to hurt him physically or emotionally, or both?”

Odin snorted. “I see Thor and Loki have both spoken to you already. Not… as such, no.”

Sighing, Aster moved to a nearby pillar and reclined against it, crossing his arms across his chest. Where the hell was Jack? “Fancy a chinwag? Fine then. Go.”

“In private, Bunnymund. There is some of what I would say that is not for everyone to hear.”

Nodding, Aster gestured for Odin to lead the way. As he half-expected, the old god brought him to Odin’s study. After a quick look ‘round, he sat down on one of the comfortable chairs, and stared up at Odin, half-defiantly. What was it with people and warning him about his behavior today?

“You are aware of my relationship to Jack, and how I care for him as a grandson direct, instead of many times removed. I need not go over that again. And you are aware he can take care of himself.”

Well, this was more reasonable than he’d expected. Aster nodded.

Odin moved over to the large window, and stared outside at turbulent waters of the bay. “Surely you are also aware that it matters not how competent he is - he is my grandson, and I will ever remember him as the bumbling student he was when he first came here.”

“Sure I am, but where are you going with this?”

“Simple enough. Should you, through action or inaction, hurt Jack so he takes offense? I will take whatever is left of you when he finishes, and grind your remains to dust. And then feed the dust to the world serpent. Is that clear?”

Aster dropped his head into his hand and sighed. Okay, so it _was_ going to be like this. But this was Odin, not his brat children, so more deference was normally warranted, so he answered simply, “Yes.”

“Good. I am not like Thor or Loki, who believes every hurt between every couple must first be pre-meditated.” Odin smiled, and moved over to the second chair. “Accidents happen, words are said in haste, you will not agree on everything.” He paused, and added, “And Jack is a berserkr, too.”

“I-” Aster paused, and cleared his throat. “I’d been wondering about that. I’ve seen… signs. What would you have me do?”

“What is your first impulse?” Odin’s expression was undecipherable, even after several minutes trying.

“Stay out of the way, and try to help him keep his head? It’s what we did back home.”

“A loved one can call the berserkr free of the rage,” Odin agreed, nodding. “Should he be brave enough.”

Aster straightened his back and nodded seriously. “Yes. I understand.”

“Do you?” Odin pointed a finger at Aster. “The berserkr recognizes nothing, remembers nothing. The man is suppressed beneath rage and hate. Try to free Jack in that state, and he may well turn on you.”

“M’ brother was one. Yes, I do.”

Odin nodded, and gestured the fire to life. “He has not yet succumbed to the rage. _Yet_. Do you feel ready to support him when that time comes?”

“Me, and my six arms, if necessary, yes.” Aster nodded.

Odin’s expression was amusing, at that. “Six arms?”

“Chocolate does funny things to Pooka.”

“I see… Well. It is good we had this talk, Bunnymund.” Odin stood up, and moved over to the door. “And before you wait for Jack in his office…” He paused and looked pained. “Edwin wishes to speak with you. I believe it is for paperwork, but considering the message, it could be as much to borrow herbs for cooking. He is two levels down, in his office. As usual.”

Aster sighed heavily, and stood. “Will Jack be long, do you think?”

“It depends on when he loses patience with Loki, and then when he tires of thrashing my brother and his mischief-mates around the training room.”

Laughing, Aster left to find Edwin’s office. Two levels down, Odin had said. What he _hadn’t_ said was that the ‘levels’ in the Fortress were thrice the height of the usual floor in a building.

Or that there were only stairs.

_Cramped_ stairs.

Better for defense, surely, but… unpleasant. Even for a Pooka used to running through tunnels, they were a touch claustrophobic.

He found that the only door on the indicated level led directly into the entirety of the Intelligence division. Which had hundreds of offices.

_Great._ _Just… great._

Approaching some random three-tailed kitsune, he asked, “‘Scuse me miss. Where might I find Edwin’s office?”

She smiled, showing teeth. “‘His Majesty’ can be found at the very back of the floor. Head straight until you have no choice but to turn, and then head right. It’ll be on your left.”

“His… what?”

The kitsune laughed as she wandered off to do… whatever it was she had been doing.

_His_ Majesty? _What the bloody hell? Well, only one way to find out._

Aster headed in the indicated direction.

It took fifteen minutes.

Sometimes, he forgot just how large the Fortress actually _was._

Approaching the door in question - surely, the right one, since it was the only door on the left, as far as he could see - he found a sign just as he went to knock.

“‘His Majesty the scatter-brained, Edwin.” Aster read, and chuckled. At least, until he noticed the smaller line beneath that. “‘Chief of Intelligence’.”

_What?_

Edwin was Chief of Intelligence? _Edwin_? The gobdaw who couldn’t follow a conversation all the way through the first five minutes? That Edwin?

There couldn’t be _two_ Edwins, could there?

Well. Only one way to find out. He knocked on the door.

A loud thump, and a mild complaint, answered him, shortly followed by “Enter!”

That… sounded like the Edwin he knew. “Odin passed on you wanted to see me,” he said, and stepped in.

Edwin looked up from his paperwork, over-sized spectacles haphazardly sitting atop the bridge of his nose. He sniffed, and shifted the frame so the lenses were level, and squinted. “Bunnymund? Whatever did I ask you here for… ah! Yes. Please, sit. And close the door, would you?”

“If this is going to be one of those talks about how you’ll do something awful if I hurt Jack…” Aster sighed, and closed the door. Might as well get it over with. Besides, how bad could _Edwin_ be?

“Talks? I do not know what you mean.” Edwin stood and stepped behind Aster for a moment, fiddling with a bookshelf next to the door. “There’s a form for you to review on the desk. Red folder.”

“Paperwork?” For a moment, he was genuinely confused, before remembering that particular form Jack had filed. He smiled, and picked up the folder. “What, you disapprove?”

Edwin glanced over his shoulder and favored Aster with his trademark confused look. “Of what?”

And then returned to sorting through books for some unknown reason.

“Of… Never mind.” Aster flipped the folder open. It was the paperwork Jack had sent in. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“Hmm?” Edwin paused and tilted his head to the side at an alarming angle, eyeing a trinket he’d pulled from a high shelf. “No, no. You just need to verify everything is in order, and sign on the last page.”

Hadn’t he done that already? Aster mentally shrugged, and found a pen on Edwin’s desk. Nothing had changed from when Jack had filled it out, looked like, so he had no problems with scrawling his name in the proper spot on all three copies.

“Aha. Here it is.” When Aster turned to look, Edwin was pulling a long case out from behind the bookshelf. “I thought I’d placed you here. Now-” The strange agent stepped to the door and locked it, before taking off his glasses and staring hard at Aster. “I believe there is one more thing I must speak with you about. Man to man. Or, rather, _King_ to Pooka, as it were.”

“Yeah, I saw that sign outside your door.”

“Its a good joke, yes?” Edwin paced around his desk and set the case atop it. He opened it and smiled, though Aster couldn’t see what was in it thanks to the lid. “Though only the highest ranking Intelligence agents know how much truth is in that statement.” He glanced at Aster, something oddly _normal_ in his eyes.

Aster put the folder back down on the desk. “What’re you going on about, then?”

“Well. Before I was with WINTER, I had… other duties.” Edwin stood back from the case and - was that a _sword_?

It was a sword. A short sword, with minimal embellishments on the hilt, clearly made for the battlefield and not a show room. There was an engraving on the blade, down near the guard, but it was small enough Aster couldn’t quite make it out.

Edwin noticed his gaze. “Ah, this?” He pointed at the engraving. “Old, it is. I’m sure you’d recognize the ancient Gaelic though. Lord’s Prayer, it is.”

“Edwin? I know you think you’re making sense, but you’re not.” Aster frowned at the sword.

“Am I not? Well, I suppose that is to be expected, given the persona I present to the vast majority of the world.” Edwin nodded seriously, eyes suddenly hard and clear. “My name is properly Saint Eadwine, son of Ælla, once-king of Deira and Bernicia.”

“Oh, bloody hell, you’re one of them Catholic saints!”

Edwin - _Eadwine_ , Aster supposed… at least, at the moment - grinned. “Aye, that I am. I will make this simple, and short, because I know the others have already spoken with you. I simply wish to add my sword to the pile of ‘shovel talks’, as they're called these days. I do not think I need explain further, yes?”

The look Edwin shot him was… disturbing.

“Eh.” Aster looked from the sword to Edwin, and back. “Noted.”

“Excellent!” Edwin put the sword back in the case, and clicked it shut. He fumbled the spectacles out of his pocket and put them on lopsidedly. “Now, is there anything else? I have much work to do, and can’t be bothered to chatter further about herbs, Mr. Bunnymund.”

The last of his statement was said overloud. Aster was confused, until he noticed the footsteps passing by. The case was gone the next moment Aster looked at the desk. How did he…?

Edwin eyed him seriously over the spectacles. “I do approve of the relationship. Given how long Jack has held onto his feelings for you, it is good to see him happy. I wish you both the best.”

Aster nodded, and stood up. “That’s better than the others’ve been saying. Good day, Edwin.” He headed over the the door, but paused when Edwin cleared his throat.

“Oh, and Bunnymund?” Aster turned. “Jack does not know my true identity, as of yet. I would prefer to keep it that way. You... understand, yes?” Edwin shot him that disturbing look again.

“Ah - yes. I do. I’ll, ah, just not mention it.”

“Good, good. Have a pleasant day.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Friday, 4 January 2013 -- The Fortress, Baffin Bay coast, northwestern Greenland, 12:29 pm local time**

Aster hurried to the training arena, and found Jack right where Odin had expected; turning Loki, Vahan, and Brenda into a smear on the mats. He appreciated the sight for a minute, and then called over to his mate. “Snowflake!”

Jack froze mid-action, grinned ferally, frosted the three to the floor, and turned. “Aster! Hi! I was just… teaching them a lesson in manners.”

“Well, and that’s right lovely of you, but I’m bored and we had plans.” He eyed his mate up and down, quite deliberately. Loki wolf whistled; Jack hit him with a snowball to the face. “Is giving these idiots a lesson more fun than what’s in store back at the Warren?”

Jack shook his head, still grinning. “Well…” He eyed Loki and covered him in ice. “For good measure. No, fun’s over. Let’s go home.” He shot Aster a heated look.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Saturday, 5 January 2013 -- Warren, afternoon**

Jack frowned at the folder in his hand, and then rolled his eyes. “I apparently need to go touch base with the other Guards watching… eh, everyone? Quetza sent an urgent little ‘I need to talk to you now’ note, Hypnos forgot to file his reports for all of last month, _again_ , and Phil probably needs help rounding up the elves.”

Aster snorted at the last. “I bet he does. Those things are a menace.” He chinned the top of Jack’s head. “Much like someone _else_ I know.”

“Aw, I love you too.” Jack pulled back, and then pecked him lightly on the lips. Just a quick touch, absentminded, and yet fond. Like a long-mated couple, touching each other as punctuation to a conversation. “Want to come with me? Quetza’s probably shedding and whining, that’s always good for a couple hours…” He waggled his eyebrows in invitation.

Aster chuckled, but pulled back and shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. I have to see to the eggplants. They’ll be budding off soon enough, and I need to make sure they’re as good as I can make them, this year.”

“Right, right. Easter’s… when, this year? April?”

“Thirty-first of March, actually. Not the earliest it can fall, but pretty early. Have to be prepared.”

Jack grinned, and patted him on the hip as he walked past. “If you’re still at it,” he said over his shoulder. “When I get back? I’ll help out. Can’t be that hard, can it?”

“Well, if you can make your snow light enough that it’ll melt before it touches the ground, you’d be a blessing-and-a-half at watering the plants.”

“Child’s play,” Jack said, and then vanished out the door. Aster smiled to himself, and reached for his cup of tea, gone cold while he’d neglected it. There wasn’t any real rush to get out there and work; not like it’d be a week or two before Easter. He could take a little time, right now.

Just as Aster was considering whether to brew himself another cup or two, there was a polite knock at the door.

“Enter,” he said, frowning. Who’d knock on his door? Jack _lived_ here, he didn’t have to knock, and everyone else just waltzed right in like they owned the place.

“Hey Bunny. Got a minute or two?” Kern asked as he stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him.

“This is a first. You knocked.” Aster set his empty cup aside. “I suppose.”

Kern nodded, and smiled, taking a seat - for once, not Jack’s favorite chair - and said, “I heard about yesterday.”

“I reckon everyone has. And?”

“I figure there’s no need for me to add my two-cents worth to the pile, but there it is.” Kern grinned, and then favored Aster with a curious look. “I heard _Edwin_ spoke to you too. That must have been weird.”

“Wasn’t normal. Is this your two-cents? Because I’m feeling cheated.”

Kern laughed. “What, you _want_ me to threaten bodily harm? I’m touched. No, I think not. You know it, I know it, and besides, just between you and me? I know you won’t hurt him on purpose.”

“Unlike you.” Aster breathed evenly, didn’t let any accusation creep into his voice, but - well. There was no hiding his glare.

Kern shrugged. “Well, that was always our relationship. But I never hurt him, much as you seem to think. He had different tastes, and I respect that.” His expression grew serious. “It’s why I ended the relationship in eighty-nine, once I was sure of his feelings for you.”

“I’m not talking about his feelings for me, you- I’m talking about how he’d feel, having his lover casually hop from bed to bed. Even if it wasn’t love.” Aster shook his head. “Never mind. It’s over and done, and if you do anything similar to Jack ever again? I’ll kill you. And that’s putting aside what’ll be done to you if you try getting him in your bed again.”

Kern rolled his eyes and looked at him in askance. “Really? This again? Honestly, Bunny, I never slept with another while we were _actively_ together; we were always a bit on-again, off-again. I’d scratch his itch, he’d scratch mine. I knew I wasn’t good for him. And if you’d take your head out of your arse, you’d noticed I’ve backed off on the physical touching since we started hanging out with you regular-like.”

Aster grunted, and waved his hand. “Get on with it. Why’re you here?”

Kern grinned faintly.

“Well,” he drawled, drawing out the word until it had too many syllables to be decent. “I thought I might offer my knowledge of some of Jack’s favorite… _things_. Y’know, so you could surprise him?”

“I don’t need your help!” Aster yelped. Though at least part of it was because he didn’t want to think of _his_ Jack and Kern. Together. Like that.

_Ever_.

“No. No you don’t.” Kern nodded. “Just thought I’d offer, is all. Regardless of what you think, he _is_ my best friend, and I try to look out for him. I just wish you’d not taken such a dislike to me. Fine then, if that’s how it’s going to be, I’ll take my leave.”

Kern stood and moved to the door.

“You’re a bloody deer, you spend too much time thinking of rooting with anyone who’ll let you, and you had your hands on _my_ mate. You really expect me to _not_ hold a grudge a few decades?” Aster huffed, and pointed at the door. “Get. I’ve got work to do.”

Kern sighed and nodded. When he reached the door, he paused. Without turning around, he said softly, “Would it mean anything to you, that I’ve only been with Raijin and Izanami since Jack and I broke it off?”

“I have it on good authority that they’re supposed to be watching for threats, not rolling in the hay with you.”

Kern shrugged, and left, calling as he went, “Off-duty!”

Yeah, right. And when did _Jack_ get to go off-duty?

Aster huffed at his own nonsense - Jack didn’t care, so why should Aster? - but, what the hell. His mum always had said he’d hold a grudge, rational or not, until the end of days. He’d hate to disappoint her.

And anyways, he did have work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "The shovel talks were inevitable, Bunny's grudge doesn't have to be reasonable, and the Guardians got their Guards to summon Jack so they could do shovel talks too, no fear there. Tooth was scary. Also, we do remember the prompts we owe the first and second place winners, but other projects are ahead on the list. No worries, we won't forget!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Poor Kern, just wants to be friends. Also, Edwin is very, very fun, is he not?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Sunday, 6 January 2013 -- Warren, morning**

Jack poured himself a bracing mug of tea, cooled it enough to drink, and then tossed it back like a shot. Nope, not nearly bracing enough. He’d had nightmares last night - _nightmares_. Him. While curled up with Aster, which should have pretty much meant nightmares were not going to happen. Ever.

Since, you know, _Aster_.

Aster smelled really good.

Jack sipped at his second mug of tea, and watched the eggs frying. He’d woken up early - thank you _so_ much, Tooth, for those mental images - and decided it was his turn to cook. If only to stave off the possibility of vegemite.

A crash behind Jack startled him into dropping his mug in the sink. Thankfully, it didn’t shatter.

“Who the bloody fuck put that there? And where’d it come from?”

Jack turned around, and smiled at his - his mate. Yup, excited and pleased flutter in his belly, just like every other time he’d thought the word. “Thor put it there. Last Tuesday, remember?” He chuckled, and moved over to the sprawled Pooka. “Not awake yet?”

Aster took the proffered hand, snagging the book he’d apparently been reading while walking as he stood with the other. The Pooka grunted. “Don’t recall that offhand, but you’re probably right. Mustn’t be awake yet. What’r’ya making?”

“Eggs, bacon for me. Fake bacon for you in another pan.” Because he could, and because he really enjoyed being able to, Jack bounced up on his toes and pecked his mate - _giddy flutter_ \- on the lips.

“Bacon?” Aster eyed him for a moment before his eyes lit up. “Oh, right. The one exception to your ‘no-meat’ rule.”

“Yup. Reading and walking? Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to do that?” Jack waved him over to the table. “Siddown before you hurt yourself.”

Aster sat down and opened his book again. “It’s a learned skill. I must’ve just forgot the cask was there, is all.”

“That’s what happens when you walk distracted. At least it wasn’t driving.”

The Pooka snorted, but remained silent as he apparently went back to reading. Jack glanced at the cover - some book on rare herbs and gardening techniques, by the title.

“So. Tooth is kind of scary, isn’t she?” Jack flipped the eggs. Sunny side up made him twitch. He preferred his eggs _fully_ cooked and not at all runny.

“What makes you say that?” Aster asked after a short pause, as he turned a page. “She do something when you saw her yesterday?”

“Shovel talk.” The bacon was also ready to flip. Jack made sure not to use one spatula for both kinds. The fake bacon was looking pretty realistic. Surprisingly so.

He wasn’t going to try eating any, though. There were limits.

Aster shut his book with an audible ‘pop’ and sighed. “So you got a round of them too?”

“Her, Sandy - less terrifying and more cute, with a side of dream logic - and then North tried to intimidate me. Would’ve been better if Phil hadn’t been on my side.”

“Better than what I got yesterday,” Aster grunted. “Probably less offensive too.”

“I dunno, Tooth promised to steal my teeth if I hurt you. And Sandy said he’d turn me into Flipper.”

Aster blinked. “Huh. Thor threatened bodily harm, Loki threatened my worst nightmares, Odin was… Odin. Edwin was just weird-”

“ _What_ did Loki do?” Jack filled two plates, and set the frying pans to one side, to cool.

“Showed me one of my worst memories. In… what’d’ya lot call it? Technicolor? 3D? Something like that. Very unpleasant, I’ll grant him that.”

“He did what?” Jack asked, very quietly. “Training with Loki. Lots of training. Not so much with pulling punches.” He put the eggs and fake bacon in front of Aster, and sat down in the other chair. “I probably won’t murder him, though. It’d make Odin sad.”

“And give you one less uncle to dote on you,” Aster replied sarcastically, though he was smiling. Had been, since Jack threatened Loki.

“Well, yeah, but Loki’s idea of ‘doting’ means more Brenda and Vahan nonsense. Go figure. You said something about _Edwin_?” Ooooh, bacon. And with that perfect crunch.

“Yeah. He got in on the action too. Weird, that. And after you left when we got back, Kern dropped by for a… chat. If you can call it that. I sent him packing right quick.”

Jack sighed. “Bunny, I _know_ you don’t like him. But can you please be polite? He’s my first friend.”

A rather pregnant pause followed as Aster chewed his first bite, rather a bit slower than absolutely necessary. “Might do. Since _you_ asked. No promises though; don’t know why, but he really sets me on edge.”

Jack took his own bite of eggs. “Maybe because he’s another nature spirit thingy?” he asked, mouth mostly empty. “Territorial stuff?”

Aster glanced to the side, ears flat against his head. “No, not that. Territorial… well, not exactly. As such. You’re not ‘territory.’”

“Wait.” He put down his piece of bacon without eating it. “You’re annoyed ‘cause Kern and I used to have _sex_?”

The Pooka chewed his lip. “Maybe?”

“You’re an idiot,” Jack said, not without a healthy dose of fondness. “Should I point out that I’m stuck on _you_ , rabbit? Kern was just… there.”

“I know it’s stupid. I just… he irritates me. Sometimes on purpose. Sometimes because he’s just _there_. I… don’t rightly know why. I mean, I know it’s past. I just… don’t like him much.” Aster glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “What’d’ya Yanks say? ‘Rubs me the wrong way’?”

“That’s the phrase.” Bacon. Yummy, salty, slightly greasy, and very nummy bacon. Jack sucked on the slice, to get the most of the taste off. “Y’know, would you feel better if I said you had the bigger donger - donger’s the word, right?”

Aster laughed, spitting out a mouthful of fake bacon. “Don’t say things like that when I’m eating!” Still, a look of pride flashed across his face once he’d gotten himself under control. “And, uh, yeah, that’s the right… the right word.”

Jack leered at Aster. “Oh, good. I intend to have a date with your donger later tonight.”

Aster simply leered back.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Wednesday, 30 January 2013 -- Burgess, Pennsylvania, 3:36 pm local time**

“Yep. Just as I’d planned. Right next to your lake. Why’re we here again?” he asked as he surveyed the scenery where they’d exited his rabbit hole. Jack was flitting about in the air in a near-perfect facsimile of Tooth’s hyperactivity.

“To see the kids! My believers! C’mon, Cottontail, I told you that before we left!”

Aster rolled his eyes fondly at Jack’s antics. “Right, right. Where’d’ya think they’ll be at this time of day?”

“Well, school ended half an hour ago. Ish?” Jack paused in mid-air. “Don’t look at me with that tone of voice!”

Aster continued with his deadpan stare. Just because Jack’s expression was amusing. He quirked an eyebrow for emphasis.

“You’re being mean,” Jack whined, before swooping down and wrapping his arms around Aster’s shoulders. “So very mean. Now you owe me.”

Chuckling, Aster pecked the sprite on the lips. “Now shoo. Lead the way. I’ll follow along, seeing as you know the area better.” He paused, weaving around a copse of trees. “Think Sophie’ll be there?”

“She’ll be at Jamie’s, and I know his place is _the_ hangout for everyone. Dad’s got a big screen TV, they play dance-dance and always lose to Cupcake. Girl’s got mad skillz.”

“‘Dance dance’? The bloody hell is ‘dance dance’? Sounds like you’re stuttering there, mate.”

“Dance-Dance Revolution? It’s a game. Supposed to be a dancing game, but no one dances that way in real life.” He paused, and then added, “At least, I hope not.”

Aster snorted, shifting to run on all fours as they rounded a bend and the house came in sight down the street. “Meet ya there!”

And he took off, leaving Jack squawking about cheaters in his wake.

Jack promptly cheated himself, calling on that wind-personification of his so he could fly full speed down the street. _Above_ the level of the cars, smart boy that he is; just because non-believers walked through them, didn’t mean they went through cars with the same ease.

Aster still won, albeit barely. Jack was getting _fast_. He complimented the sprite as much from his perch on the porch of Jamie’s house. He could just make out the excited bantering of the children inside.

“Thanks, fluffy-butt,” Jack said. “C’mon. Jamie leaves his window open, and I know the kids’ll be happy to see us.”

They made their way in through the second story, Jack humming the theme song to some spy movie the whole time. Jack, despite the relative safety of the location, still ran a quick perimeter check. Only thing he found was a decided lack of parents.

Easier for them to visit, at least. No questions.

“Hey, midgets of belief!” Jack yelled as he glided down the stairs. “We’re coming down!”

“Jack!” came a chorus of voices from the living room, followed by Jamie’s shout of, “Who’d you bring with you?”

Jack grinned back up over his shoulder. “Little Bunny Foo-Foo,” he sang. And then dodged Aster’s completely justified punch.

Sophie came tearing around the corner. She squealed “Bunny hop hop!” and then pounced on Aster. He caught her in a light hug and swung her around the landing. She giggled shrilly.

“Whoa!” several kids exclaimed excitedly.

“It’s the Easter Bunny!” Jamie shouted, elated. “In my house!”

“Sheesh, what’m I, chopped animal poison filter?” Jack asked. He hopped over the massed children to land on the back of the couch, perching there the way he did with his staff. Aster favored him with a subtly approving look. “Sure, you remember Bunny from last year, don’t you?”

A chorus of happy agreement answered Jack, before the two spirits were pestered with a flock of questions and excited babble. It took a good ten minutes just for the children to calm down enough to talk sensibly.

Aster shot Jack more than one fond look throughout the whole exchange. He didn’t fail to notice the way Cupcake and Pippa, if he remembered their names correctly, were watching the two of them.

“Jack,” Cupcake said, looking sly. “Jaaack, do you and Mr. Bunny have something to tell us?”

Aster quirked an eyebrow at Jack and smirked. “Yeah Jack. Anything you want to say?”

Jack smirked. “We’re kidnapping Sophie!” he yelled, and dove off the couch and at Aster. “You’ve got her? Good! Let’s run!”

“No, no nap-kid!” she giggled as Aster tucked her under his arm and dashed off.

Jamie looked far too interested in the ‘kidnapping’. “Wait, for real? _Yes_!”

Pippa smacked him upside the back of the head and pushed him to give chase along with everyone else. They dashed out the back door, which Jack had flown ahead to helpfully open for Aster. They piled out into the backyard; Aster hopped the fence and bounded into the small park on the other side of the empty street, giggling child hanging onto his neck the whole way.

Pippa and Claude led the pack following at his heels, though they were briefly slowed by having to go through the gate instead of over the fence. Jack flew over their heads, gleefully mocking them the entire way.

“Oi, Jackie. Didn’t the kids forget something?” Aster called as he held Sophie to his chest. He’d at least had the presence of mind to grab her bunny-decorated overcoat on the way out. The kids hadn’t put any thought towards the cold when they followed.

“We’ll be fine,” Jamie said, between pants. “For a few minutes, anyways.”

“Yeah, don’t worry so much, Cottontail. I’ll know when they’re getting too cold.”

“Hey there Sophie. Can you hang onto my neck fur while I run?” he asked the small bundle in his arms as he danced around the kids.

“Bunny!” Sophie giggled, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes. Bunny hop-hop!”

She latched on, almost painfully tight, and he all-but-danced around the kids, staying just out of reach. Way he figured, if they kept running, they’d stay warm. “How old are you now, anyway?” he asked as he dodged the twins.

“Sophie three!”

“Four,” Jamie corrected. “She’s four. She got born on Christmas. Mom about killed dad.” Again, he sounded strangely gleeful.

Jack flew by overhead, upside down and doing a backstroke. “You’re being kind of a dork, kid.”

“You’re one to talk, Jackie.” Aster shot back, hopping over Cupcake and rolling past Monty.

And then he had to duck a snowball. Which kid had… Ah. Pippa. Kid had decided ranged attacks were better than running around. Aster smirked at her, hefted a giggling Sophie a little higher in his arms, and continued running rings around the kids.

Aster eventually decided to let the kids recover Sophie, purposefully dodging into a snowball and tumbling to a stop. “Ack! Ya got me! Whatever will I do?”

Cupcake took Sophie back, and smirked at him. “We’re taking you hostage! Quick, get him back to the house! Before Jack can mount a rescue!”

Considering how hard Jack was laughing, there was no real need for speed. Aster let the kids hustle him along, but drew the line at mock handcuffs. Sure, it’d be no real trouble to snap the terry cloth belt, but it seemed to belong to Jamie’s mother. Wouldn’t be polite to break something of her’s.

Aster sat down on the couch where indicated as the children manned the windows. Sophie crawled into his lap and promptly dozed off, as toddlers were wont to do. He didn’t mind. Jack appeared next to him in short order, without the children’s knowledge.

“We could kidnap her for real,” Jack offered. He reached down and smoothed out some of Sophie’s hair. “I’m sure Jamie wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t really have the facilities to manage a child right now, long-term.” Aster chuckled, shifting to get comfortable as Jack settled in against him. “How long d’ya think it’ll take for them to notice you’re inside already?”

“Eh, I’m not hiding.” Jack shifted against him, and half-closed his eyes. “This is nice. So. You’ve thought about it?”

Aster eyed the sprite sidelong. “Well, I’d always hoped there’d been more survivors than just little old me. That’d have meant kits. And need for housing. Hope’s my thing, after all.”

“Yeah, two guys can’t exactly have kids together the natural way,” Jack agreed. “But adoption…”

“Two guys?”

Both of them about jumped out of their skin. Sophie slept through it all.

“Gah,” Jack managed, and stared bug-eyed at Pippa. “Gah!”

“Two guys?” she repeated. “What’s this? Are you two… _dating?_ ”

“Observant little sheila, aren’t you?” Aster said, and inclined his head. “That a problem?”

“No, no. Not at all.” Pippa replied, shaking her head. “Besides, Cupcake’s got two dads.”

“Well, alright then,” Aster said, smiling at the girl.

The other children moved in from the windows. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew Papa Gerry,” Cupcake said. “He’s real _weird_. But Daddy loves him, so I guess he’s okay.”

“Weird?” Jack asked.

“He’s a writer.”

“Ah, yeah, that’d explain it.”

“So, uh. Mr. Bunny,” Jamie said, looking about as awkward as he could get. “Don’t be mean to Jack or, uh, we won’t help with egg painting. And can we, uh, help with egg painting?”

Aster rolled his eyes, amused. “That’s the nicest shovel talk I’ve gotten so far,” he said. “We’ll see.”

“Oh, don’t be a grouch,” Jack told him, grinning.

 

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Saturday, 16 February 2013 -- Warren, late morning**

If Jack wasn’t stupid-in-love with Aster, revving-up-to-Easter Prep probably would have sent him running away screaming. The idiot Pooka apparently had the common sense of a stunned goat this time of year. Tried to skip meals, tried to skip sleep… At least Jack had an easy way of bringing his Bunny back to the real world.

Heh. If he’d known it’d be that easy, he might have _interfered_ years and years ago.

“Things seem… frantic,” Jack said, eyeing the latest ‘project’. The giant stone eggs were all mechanical inside, and the tools used to keep them in tip-top shape were… funky.

He wasn’t going to ask.

“I have to get everything in tip-top shape, Jackie. Means lots of maintenance, watering, weeding… you’ve seen this countless times, I’m sure, what with your stalking and all.” Aster threw a smirk over his shoulder before turning back to… whatever he was doing with that thing that looked like a cross between a wrench and a hammer. With a side of _lasers_.

“I prefer to think of it as proactively learning your habits before moving in with you.”

“Right. Because my habits are ‘dangerous’ and ‘scary’. I paint eggs, Frostbite, not catch snakes for fun.” Aster grinned. “Some of my tools are just… more advanced than you’re used to.”

“Liar. Lying liar who lies like a rope on the ground.” Jack dug his fingers into the thick ruff of fur protecting Aster’s neck and shoulders. “I know you were having a blast playing with that… squirmy black snake-thing of Australian _doom_.”

“Her name’s Sally. And that’s not the point.”

“You named the squirmy black snake-thing of Australian doom Sally?”

“Nah, mate, she told me it was so. I speak snake.” Aster winked at Jack. “Strewth.”  
“Parseltongue!” Jack grinned, and pulled a tag of dead fur free. “That shouldn’t be hot, but… kinda is. Gonna hiss sweet nothings in my ear, Bigfoot?”

“Oi!” Aster shrugged and knocked Jack off his back, and onto his arse. “I’m nothing like that hairy, good-for-nothing stalker.”

“Okay, okay, bad nickname. But your foot is bigger than my head, fuzzy.” Jack got back into position, leaning up against the warm bulk of his mate.

Yup. Still got the giddy happy feelings in his stomach. Whee!

“Bigger than your head?” Aster half-turned to level his gaze on Jack. “Is that supposed to mean something kinky, or am I just reading too much into your tone?”

Oh, his eyes were getting a bit glazed over, he just knew it. “Well, it _is_ indicative of your size in other places… But no. This time, it just means that your foot, the pads at least, could cover my entire _face_.”

Aster smirked. “Not fishing for a paw-job, I see. Pity. Fun image, you squirming around under my foot.”

“What about the reverse? My toes are a lot more… flexible than yours.” Jack managed a credible leer, even while struggling not to laugh.

The Pooka twitched, and turned hastily back to his work. “Ahem, ah. Right. I have to get this finished. Before, uh, tomorrow. Yeah….”

“Subtle as a brick to the face, Cottontail.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Aster’s head. “Maybe tonight, if you’re good.”

His partner didn’t say anything further, but the full-body shudder was answer enough, Jack supposed. He all but purred in response and snuggled closer.

He’d nearly drifted off to sleep when an out-of-place noise caught his attention. Jack sat up - Aster didn’t notice, hard at work - and looked around.

It was coming from the main tunnels, the ones that led to all the continents for the egg hunts.

Jack considered Aster, but the Pooka seemed deep in something tricky with the potential for _boom_ or _bzzt_ , depending on if that wire led to something explosive or electric. His staff was close at hand; he kicked it up, snagged it out of the air, and headed for the tunnels.

He landed in the clearing just in time to see Tooth flit out of the Asian tunnel. He relaxed.

“What’s up?” he asked, shouldering his staff.

“Oh, Jack! It’s good to see you. I was hoping you’d be here. How are you doing?”

Jack suppressed a mental image of possible maiming if he messed up with Aster, and hugged Tooth carefully about the shoulders. “Alright. You?”

“Oh, I’m doing well. Xochitl is running things while I’m out, in trade for a day off to visit you later this week. I… have a question or two for you. About…” She paused, and blushed. “About Quetzalcoatl.”

“Zo- Baby Tooth?” Jack waved Tooth towards the main part of the Warren. “Cool. What about Quetza? Is he bothering you?”

“Hmm? No, no! Far from it, actually. It’s just that, um… well, he gets around a lot, doesn’t he?”

Jack shrugged one shoulder. “I guess? C’mon, let’s sit down.”

He got settled on the warm grass, and set his staff aside. “Tooth, you’ve been in lots of fights, right?”

“Yes. Happens, when you’ve lived as long as I have. And I wasn’t always the Tooth Fairy. Why?” She tilted her head inquiringly, bird-like.

Jack shrugged his shoulders again. “Ever finish a fight, then just drag the nearest person over to the bushes for a bit of ‘yay we’re not dead’ sex?”

Tooth blushed, and nodded. “Once or twice.”

“WINTER agents tend to face that sort of thing a lot, and then… I mean, as long as both sides are consenting and it doesn’t affect work, whatever the rules are officially… Quetza’s been _there_ for a lot of newbies.”

She nodded. “I see. I asked the girls about it and they said… they said he only spends time with the guys though. Why? I mean, I’ve seen the way he looks at some of the female kitsune, but I’ve not heard any stories about… that.”

“You want the cliché? I think it’s because it’s easier for two guys to get off without penetration being involved.” Blunt, maybe, but true. “He’s handsy. I won’t deny that. And he wouldn’t say no if someone asked for some private time, unless he had a good reason. But he prefers women.”

“Confusing, he is.” She shook her head. “So, um… how much do you know about Aztec courtship?”

Jack smirked. “He’s interesting, Tooth?”

If she blushed any harder, Jack swore her feathers’d fall out from embarrassment. “Yes? I mean, yes. I think so, it’s just hard to figure him out, what with all the bravado. And, um… penis.”

“For the record, a courtship would be a very good reason for him to say no.” Jack leaned a bit further back on the grass. “I don’t know a lot about Aztec courtship. I think you need to talk to an older woman of his family?”

Tooth tilted her head again as she thought. “Right, right. Like an intermediary, right?”

“I guess. Quetza doesn’t have family that I’ve heard, so… I’ll have to get you an audience with Anika.”

“Anika? The Snow Queen? His superior, I assume?”

“Yup. He’s a Knight. Anika’s a Regent.” Jack waved one hand. “If not for the female part, I could do- I rank him. Fun times.” Jack turned and stared at her. “Tooth, I swear to all that’s holy, if you do go through with this courtship business… _you_ can drag him home drunk from the office parties!”

She giggled and thanked him for his offer. They made arrangements over his comm for her to drop by later that week to see the Snow Queen. Jack hoped she knew what she was getting into, but he couldn’t deny it was going to be hilarious watching Quetza be the one chased for once.

He couldn’t wait to tell Kern!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "No. No. Under no circumstances in _any_ way, shape, or form, will North hook up with Phil. Yes, Tooth maybe has a thing for her Guard. Yes, Jack and Bunny are very much together. And yes, maybe there's an unsubstantiated rumor about Hypnos and Sandy (bets have reached astronomical amounts with nary a breath to confirm nor deny). But no! No Phil/North pairings!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "This chapter was quite fun. Little visit with the kiddos, little visit from Tooth... little bit of shovel talks...."


	23. Chapter 23

**Saturday, 2 March 2013 -- Warren, afternoon**

Jack shivered as the brush slid down his spine, leaving a faintly chilly trail of damp paint in it’s wake. Although chilly was a matter of opinion. Perhaps it was only that the paint was damp, and that there was a breeze; even for him, it made the paint feel cool.

Or maybe it was the way he could feel Aster’s breath, warm and faintly moist, on the back of one buttock. “Writing a sonnet there, Cottontail?”

Aster chuckled, a bit breathlessly. So Jack wasn’t the only one turned on by this. Good. “Might do, sometime, but no. You’ll see, soon enough. I’m just about done, then we need to let it dry for a mo’ before you turn over and I do your front.”

Ah, yes, the front. Jack’s little buddy twitched, more than ready for a release from being pressed into the ground. “Uh huh. You’ve got a camera, right?”

“I had Weyland hook up a separate line, just for the bedroom, that only links to one monitor here. It’s filming you right now,” the Pooka whispered in his ear, breath warm, making Jack shiver again.

Jack cleared his throat, once he had the brain activity to manage it. “Yeah? What, we’re doing amateur porn now?”

“If ya want.” Jack could hear the smirk in his companion’s words. “I just wanted a good way to get pictures of any body art I do on ya. Anything else is a bonus.”

“Is this the part where I call you a pervert?”

Jack felt the brush leave his ass, followed by Aster’s breath, hot and heavy, blowing across it. He suppressed a whimper.

“I thought you’d already done so. _Several_ times,” Aster answered easily. Cheeky bastard. “We both have our kinks. You just happen to be most of mine in one cute, and powerful, little package.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Most?” he asked. “What’m I missing, then?”

There was a long pause. “Outfits.”

“Outfits,” he repeated. “Outfits how?”

“Y’can turn over now.” Avoiding the question, how adorable.

Jack had a smirk ready when he rolled over, to draw at least a little attention from the ‘happy banana’ that’d otherwise be in his ‘pocket’.

Oh, what the hell. Euphemisms in his own mind? He was hard as a rock, and it was all Aster’s fault. “Outfits?” he repeated, again. “Tell me more.”

The Pooka’s ears were flat against his skull and he was busily mixing paints, rather than looking at Jack. “... Pookan ones.”

“Um. Like, what, rabbit ears and fake tail?” He could actually see that being quite fun, although he drew the line at fursuits and all that.

“What? No, no. Not… really. Though… that _is_ a pretty image,” Aster replied, surprise evident in his voice. He shook his head - probably to clear it of images of Jack like that - and then said, “I mean, clothes. Pooka clothes. Um… things that we, uh… wore during courting and… and stuff.”

“Wait, you wore clothes?” Jack sat up, erection forgotten. “Why haven’t I ever seen this properly? The coat, I knew about the coat, and the kilt at New Years, but…” He paused, and grinned. “Tell you what. You wear your clothes, I’ll wear whatever you give me.”

Aster finally looked at him. Oh, were his eyes dilated! They were almost black, the pupils were so big. “I think I can do that, mate. Now,” he continued, clearing his throat. “Lie back down. Time for the fun to _really_ start.”

“You weren’t having fun?” Jack pouted. “Wasn’t fun the point of this exercise?”

“Oh, I _am_ having fun, mate,” Aster countered, smirk firmly in place, setting the tip of the brush on his chest and circling one perked nipple gently. “This side is just _more_ fun.”

‘More fun’. Considering the way that brush had tickled, _and_ made his nipple painfully sensitive, ‘more fun’ was right. Jack lost no time in lying back down, getting comfortable. “Alright, Rembrandt. Paint me.”

Aster grinned at Jack’s nickname. Good, it was meant as a compliment. But then Jack forgot to think for a while, as the brush did _things_ , circling his other nipple, then joining the circles with a looping line across his chest. From there, it trailed down his sternum to just above the tip of his manhood, before moving to first the join of his right hip, and then his left, and then swirling down each thigh, coming close, but not close enough, to his balls, before withdrawing; Jack could feel the heat of Aster’s hand, but it never quite touched him.

The sensations were driving him mad; Jack swore the brush Aster had chosen was specifically designed to do that, it was so soft. When Aster finally, _finally_ touched his balls with just the tip of the brush, he shuddered, full-body, and whimpered.

“Bun _ny_ ,” he whined. “Bunny, please, just- c’mon, please!”

“Not yet, Snowflake. You’re doing so good. Just hold out for a little bit longer, okay mate?”

“You’re a horrible person,” he hissed. “If I come, it’s your fault!”

Aster smirked at him again, and went back to work, removing the brush from his balls and heading south, first to his knees - who knew that area could be _sensitive?_ \- and then behind them, before trailing down his calves to- to-

Oh Polaris! He hadn’t realized the arches of his feet were so sensitive! It almost tickled, but it was so borderline Jack couldn’t decide whether to squirm away from the sensation, or towards it. He settled on not moving, which was just as well, as Aster carefully ran up and down between each toe on his left foot, to his heel, before repeating the pattern on his right. By the time he pulled back from that, Jack could feel his cock pulsing, about ready to burst from all the attention.

“Ah,” he panted. “Might have… foot thing… too. Hurry up!”

Aster purred delightedly at the comment, and slowly, grandly, dipped the brush in paint once more. Grinning slyly as Jack watched, wide-eyed, he ever-so-slowly reached out and paused, the tip of the brush languidly forming a droplet of paint just above the base of his penis, where it quivered for a few seconds before falling. As it did, so too did the brush, in one quick stroke, from base to tip.

“Oh, God!” Everything exploded. Jack didn’t know if he held still, didn’t care. Once the top of his head was back on his skull, and his eyes had finished rolling back in his head, he looked down at himself. “Oh, wow.”

“Liked… liked…” Aster said, huffing. Jack glanced down and- oh. Oooh. He was masturbating to the sight of Jack. Jack’s cock twitched in interest at the very idea. “Liked that… did you? Just… stay there for a tic, yeah?”

“No problem,” Jack said. “Bones, water, muscles, jelly… you know how it is.” He grinned weakly, completely unable to manage his usual smirk, and let his gaze travel deliberately back down. “Don’t mind me, just… enjoying the view…”

Oh Polaris, he was getting hard _again_. Aster’s fist sped up at the sight, and it wasn’t long before he was groaning his own release, which splattered across Jack’s own erection as he leaned forward onto one paw, hovering over the sprite. Before Jack could respond to that, his renewed erection was pressed against Aster’s, which never quit, it seemed - the joys of being a fertility spirit! - and the Pooka immediately began rubbing them together, using the come as lubricant in his fist.

“Aster, Aster, Aster,” Jack chanted. He took a risk that the paint was dry, and reached up. He caught hold of the Pooka’s shoulders, and pulled. “Kiss me _now_ , damn it!”

They mashed their mouths together, teeth clashing, biting, but Jack didn’t care. It was too good, how Aster was making him feel. He sucked Aster’s thick tongue into his mouth, causing the Pooka to groan and speed up his pumping and thrusting. The sensations were driving Jack mad once again.

And then it was too much, and he arched into Aster’s grip, toes curling and vision whiting out. Or maybe he passed out for half a second. Whatever it was, he came back because Aster might have fell on him. A little.

Not that he minded, because it was actually quite nice.

“If the paint’s not dry,” he muttered into one long ear. “You just got fur in it.”

Panting gave way to a dry, weak chuckle. “Then I’ll just have to start over.”

“I think that might just kill me. Again. Break first if you do. Because otherwise…” he made the classic ‘strangled’ sound, and grinned.

Aster pushed himself up onto his elbows, and tangled their mouths in a languid kiss for several seconds, before sitting back and admiring Jack’s body. “Looks like it dried. C’mon, let’s clean up, then you can admire the art, if ya want.”

“It’s not going to wash off, is it?” He almost, but didn’t quite, touch the mess on his stomach and chest.

“Not without a special additive, no.”

“Oh, you mean this is _permanent_. Great, thanks a _lot_.” Jack pretended to storm off towards the bathroom.

“Nah mate. I mean, you have to use the green soap, instead of the white. Permanent paint is only for… special occasions.”

Jack noticed the hitch in Aster’s voice. “If you couldn’t tell I was joking…” he reached back and caught Aster by the chest fur. “C’mon. You wash my back, I’ll wash yours. And maybe you can tell me about… special occasions.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack stood before the mirror, admiring Aster’s handiwork. He had to admit, it looked amazing.

“So. We kind of got distracted in the bath. Special occasions?” he asked as he turned this way and that. The swirls and lines were beautifully crafted; they reminded Jack of the strange script he’d seen around the Warren on many of the most ancient-looking stones. Silence answered him. He glanced at his partner in the mirror and saw that his ears were down again.

“Aster?” he asked, turning around to face the Pooka.

“Sorry. Sorry, I just… I never thought I’d talk about it again,” he said softly. He seemed to gather himself and straightened his posture, turning to face Jack. “Special occasions. See this mark here?” He pointed to his forehead. “I got that one when I was born, on my Naming Day.”

“Special occasions.” He reached up to trace the lines and curves. “What’s your name sound like, in your language?”

Music, apparently. And laughter. Very beautiful. Aster smiled weakly afterwards, obviously unsure of Jack’s response.

“You’re teaching me how to say that, later,” Jack muttered. “So… these?” He moved his hand down, until he was tracing the lines on Aster’s shoulders. “And your back, legs?”

“These are for my clan,” he said of his shoulder markings. “Traditionally given when we came of age. And passed on to our mates when we wed.”

“Um. Question. What about your mate’s markings?” he asked.

Aster pointed to his thighs, just above the knee, where there were darker marks in his fur, forming a different pattern from his shoulders.

Oh. Of course, he must’ve had a mate before. Jack swallowed, subtly he hoped, and nodded. “Okay. Makes sense. Your back?”

Aster grinned sharply. “Rank. Accomplishments. Embellished as we achieve things, like completing academy and choosing a career. Win battles. That sort of thing. Bigger the better. More experienced.”

“Bunny-rabbit, your back is one big blotch of markings,” Jack said, grinning. “Trying to tell the world something?”

“I was very high ranking. And experienced,” he said nonchalantly, smirking at Jack.

“Experienced,” Jack repeated, waggling his eyebrows. “Right.”

“Shut yer gob, drongo. You’ve not even looked at your back yet.” Aster quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to see it?”

“Unless you did it in mirror writing…” Still, he twisted around so as to look in the mirror over his shoulder. “... What’d you put on my ass? And… is that an _arrow_?”

The Pooka snickered. “It says ‘Property of E. Aster Bunnymund. For his cock only.’”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Huh. Well, you’re not wrong…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he countered, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Not like Kern ever got this,” Jack said, gesturing to his behind. “I got his all the time, but…” he smirked, and moved over to his pile of folded clothes. Leaving a gaping Bunny in his wake.

“I- you- he- what? Huh? I thought… I’ll be your _first_?”

“Not my first for sex, but yeah, you’ll be the first person to fuck me,” he said, deliberately crude.

He suddenly found himself pressed against the wall, caught between a large, furry Pooka and a hard place. Wait. Make that _two_ hard places, considering what was poking him in the back.

“Not _now_ ,” he snapped, and swatted at Aster’s hip. “What, twice isn’t enough for you? We promised to visit the kids!”

Aster growled, but relented, after nipping at Jack’s neck and muttering, “ _Mine_.”

“Didn’t we establish that already?” He shoved against the wall, not incidentally pushing back against Aster. “Leggo. I’m not seeing the kids without a pair of pants at _least_.”

Aster stepped back and grumbled a bit as he sank down to sit on his heels. “Sorry ‘bout that. I just… the _thought_ …” He seemed to be at a loss for words, and settled for pleased purring instead.

Jack rolled his eyes and grabbed his pants. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, fluffy.”

After he pulled on his clothes, almost reluctant to put the sweater on and hide the whorls and dots on his arms, Aster enveloped him in a hug, whispering in his ear.

“Y’know what, Jackie?”

“Make me guess and we’ll be here a decade.”

“I maybe want to top you badly, but I’ve actually never…”

Never what? Jack poked Aster in the side, in ‘encouragement’.

He cleared his throat. “My mate was bigger. And higher ranking. So, um… I didn’t get to top.”

Oh-hoh, that’s what he’d been working at! Jack grinned, and poked Aster in the side again. “So, I’m a Regent of WINTER. And the Guardian of Fun. Is that higher in rank than you, ya old fluffy-butt?”

Aster growled. “But yer smaller.”

“So? I can probably sling you over one shoulder like I used to do the sheep.” Thinking about it… Jack leaned back, and hummed thoughtfully. “I dragged a cougar home once. It’d had a broken leg, and it wasn’t like there was anything else to eat… you’re about the same size.”

Aster shuddered, and glanced down appraisingly, though Jack was covered now. “Well… you are larger than I expected for your size…”

“Grower not a shower, yup. That’s me.”

“What’d they call it then? Switch?”

“A- huh? You lost me.”

“Something about those who both give and receive.”

Jack almost rolled his eyes. Almost. “Well, back then anyone who slept with their own gender - well, two guys who had sex, because _clearly_ no woman would do anything so deviant - was a sodomite and that was kinda, you know, against the _law_? These days, though, a switch is someone in the BDSM scene who swaps swinging the whip and getting hit.”

The expression on the Pooka’s face was _priceless_. “Oh. Well, you know what I mean… right?”

“If what you mean is us taking turns, then yes, I know what you mean. And I think it’s a good idea, so long as I don’t have to haul you up onto my shoulders to prove a point.”

Aster grinned and, instead of replying, threw Jack over _his_ shoulders. “Off we go then! Good talk!”

Jack dragged his fingers up Aster’s back, against the grain of the fur, and laughed.

  
  


  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Sunday, 17 March 2013 -- Warren, noon**

“Not that I’m complaining, but… shouldn’t you be fussing over the eggs right about now?” Jack paused, and looked back over his shoulder. “Didn’t think you’d want to take the time for a movie.”

“North’s visit was disturbing. Distracting _and_ disturbing. And loud,” Aster replied, rubbing at the base of one ear. “I need a break. The googies’ll keep. I’ve painted enough for today.”

“Not something I ever thought I’d hear,” he admitted. “So, you’re okay with _Avengers_?”

Jack took the shrug as a go-ahead.

“Right.” _Avengers_ was a good movie. It’d certainly give Aster’s brain a break. And when done, Jack would help out a bit with the eggs, because last minute crunch time would go easier the more eggs had been prepared. Not like herding walking eggs was hard, after all, though they were a spirited bunch.

Jack popped the disk into the player, and flopped on the couch, curling up against Aster’s side. The Pooka’s arm dropped down from the back of the couch to wrap around Jack’s shoulder loosely.

Good times.

When the first scene started, Jack felt, more than heard, Aster grunt. Odd reaction, that, but he dismissed it and continued watching.

“Who’s that bloke?” Aster muttered. “With the coat and Odin’s eyepatch?”

“Huh? Oh, that’s Nick Fury.” Blank look. “Director of SHIELD?”

Aster shook his head, and looked back at the screen. Only to speak up another minute later. “And the cube?”

“The Tesseract. Though it _should_ be called the Cosmic Cube, if they were keeping closer to comic book canon,” Jack muttered the last, since it wasn’t relevant to the Cinematic Universe, but Aster’s quirked ear and frown told him that he’d heard anyway.

“Ah-hah,” Aster said. When Loki opened the gateway, he jumped, and stared at the sudden carnage. “What’s with that one, he mental?”

“That’s Loki. Notice a resemblance?”

“... WINTER’s Loki takes over people’s minds with a glowing blue staff?”

Jack chuckled. “No, no. But _my_ Loki likes to copy that one’s appearance lately, since, to quote him, ‘all the cool kids are doing it.’”

Aster shook his head, and watched in growing confusion - evident even to Jack, who was paying more attention to the movie than his mate - as Loki escaped and the compound collapsed. Nick Fury tried to use a helicopter to catch the God of Mischief, and managed to survive the resulting crash with minor injury.

“He should be dead,” Aster muttered.

“Superhero movie,” Jack countered. “And Fury is Bad. Ass.”

“Fine, fine. And… Russian gangsters now?” Aster paused, and added, “North would hate their accents.”

“I’m sure, and yes. Just watch.” Jack shifted to get more comfortable, almost wishing he’d taken the time to make popcorn.

Aster grunted. He chortled a bit when Natasha revealed she’d gotten the information from the bad guy, just by letting him brag, and seemed to enjoy the fight scene. But then, when Natasha walked away from the thugs, talking on the phone, he frowned again. “Stark?” he asked. “Big guy?”

“Iron Man and the Hulk. Sssh,” Jack said, too distracted by the movie to notice Aster’s continually growing confusion.

During the India scene, Aster grunted again. “What’re they _on_ about?” he muttered.

“Huh?” Jack asked, forcing himself to pay more attention to Aster than the movie. “What do you mean?”

“How’s this doctor-guy so dangerous- and his eyes just glowed green!”

“That’s because he’s the Hulk?” Jack said slowly, as if talking to a small child. What was Aster’s issue today?

“The who? And what’s that got to do with all the weapons?”

Jack blinked at him several times, and then the scene changed to Fury again and he got distracted by the banter with the Security Council. Aster didn’t say anything else until the scene switched again, this time to Cap.

“That’s a heavy bag. How can he just- it’s a heavy bag, you can’t do that!” Aster waved one hand at the screen.

Jack paused the movie and turned to look at Aster properly. “He’s _Captain America_.” Blank look. Jack stared back, awed at the lack of knowledge. “Seriously? You have seen the other movies, right? Or read the comics, at least, Mr. Bookworm?”

“Comics?” Aster asked, rather weakly.

“Oh my god, I’m dating a Philistine.” Jack dropped his face into his hands and groaned.

“I’m not a Philistine, I’m a Pooka.” Aster smirked at him, and then poked at his shoulder. “Gonna explain any of this?”

Jack took a few deep breaths. “Okay. So. You don’t know _anything_ about Marvel’s universe?” Aster shook his head. “Just checking, but how about DC? Batman, Superman? Ring any bells?”

“No-ot exactly, no. Superman’s the bloke all in black, right?”

Jack shot Aster a flat look. “Red and blue. _Batman_ is all in black. Usually… depends on the period. Anyway,” Jack said, waving off Aster’s concerned frown. “Okay. So. Wow. So much to explain. Okay, okay. First things first, I’ll at least show you my collection. I stashed it in the spare room you gave me in my suite.”

“Now?” Aster looked from the screen, to Jack, and then towards the front door. “I do have my painting…”

“It’ll just take a minute! It’s not like I’m going to make you read them. Right now, anyway.” Jack tugged on Aster’s arm.

“I have to do this?” he asked. “Because I’ll take your word for… any of it. Really.”

Jack dragged Aster, despite his protests, into his old room and through to the spare.

Which was stacked floor to ceiling with longboxes full of comics, all carefully packaged within plastic, and with cardboard backings. The rarer volumes were sealed in higher quality materials.

“How did you fit this all _in_?” Aster picked up one box, and squinted thoughtfully at it. “You got the minions to help?”

“Yep!” Jack said brightly, digging around for a particular box. “Aha! Here we go. Avengers comics. All the way back to the first one, from 1963.”

“There’s… quite a few of them,” Aster said, somewhat weakly.

“And they’ve been rebooted several times. Most comics are, to keep them current with ‘modern’ events. But _these_ ,” Jack opened another box, this one made of a dark wood instead of heavy cardboard. “Are special.”

“Action Comics #1?” Aster asked, holding up a carefully wrapped and preserved comic book. “1938?”

“Ack! Careful!” Jack snagged the comic from his hands and held it close to his chest. “This is very rare. First appearance of Superman. It’s worth a lot of money. At least, if money mattered to us spirits like it does to the mortals.”

“How’d you get it, then?” Aster tilted his head. “Other than being there.”

“I’ve been collecting comics since they first came out. It’s amazing how many people treated them like newspapers and tried to throw them out with the trash!” Jack said as he gently replaced the comics and led Aster from the room.

“Right,” Aster said, slowly. He followed Jack out without complaint, looking faintly relieved.

“Don’t worry. I won’t make you read them _all_. Just the important ones. And the good arcs.”

“Ah… Well, Easter… Gonna be a bit busy.”

“After.” Jack shrugged. “You spend months reading sometimes anyway, not like this’ll be any different. So. Movies. We’re going to have to stretch this out; there’s several.”

“Like Lord of the Rings?” Aster looked hopeful. “Three movies sounds good.”

“Actually,” Jack said offhandedly as they returned to the living room. “There’s six so far, in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. More coming out this year and next.”

“Oh. Ah. Date nights?” Aster suggested, ears dropping down. “Do we… even have these other movies?”

Jack stared at him, deadpan. “You saw my comic collection and you’re asking me _that_?”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Tuesday, 19 March 2013 -- Warren, late afternoon**

“Are you _sure_ we can watch a movie tonight?” Jack asked as they entered the burrow.

Aster sighed, again. “You helped out with the googies. I’m ahead of production, at least right now. I can take a break. And it’s nice spending time with you.”

Jack’s answering smile was very enticing. Maybe they should… no, no. He’d promise he’d let Jack subject him to those movies. And he was nothing if not a Pooka of his word.

“I’m going to make popcorn then. Put _Iron Man_ in? It’s on the top of the stack.”

On top of the stack, with a shiny cover. No way to mistake it for… oh wait, there were two. But the second one wasn’t on top of the stack. Aster frowned, and then put the first movie into the machine. The menu came up - and he wasn’t going to complain about the intro music, at least - and he settled onto the couch while waiting for his mate. Jack plopped down a few minutes later, bowl of popcorn in hand, and promptly pressed play.

Aster frowned at the first scene. Who was this guy? Why was he in the desert? What was with the attack, and the importance of “Stark” on that bomb there? Of course, the movie followed the scene up with a skip back in time, so he was able to see a little more.

“Randy as a fertility spirit, isn’t he?” he muttered, when ‘Tony’ took the reporter to bed.

Jack giggled and nodded. “Just a bit. He mellows out some. Eventually.”

Aster raised one eyebrow, and returned to his watching.

He actually choked when he, along with Tony, realized there was a car battery attached to the man’s chest. That was… quite deep into the chest. Had to shove the heart to one side, probably, to fit. And the man had to be missing his sternum. “How’d he survive?” he muttered, even as the movie introduced him to “Yinsin.”

It went on from there, escape, Yinsin’s death, rescue, press conference. Aster stole several handfuls of Jack’s popcorn, not that his mate noticed. Far too entranced with the unfolding storyline.

Aster paused the movie when Tony started designing his suits. “Okay. What reference am I missing, and what the heck is a Jarvis?”

“Jarvis is his AI?” Jack said, tone slightly questioning, as if he expected to have to explain something as simple as “artificial intelligence”.

“Oh, that’s a quaint version, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Jack said faintly. “And, um, the reference with the ‘gold suit’ is to one of the earliest comic incarnations of his character. I’ve got those issues, if you’re that curious.”

“Maybe later.” He started the movie again.

  
  


  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“So,” Jack said as the credits finished. And after the special scene. “Whatcha think?”

“The flying scenes were far too realistic for comfort, the dialogue was surprisingly witty, and Stane had better stay dead.” He glowered at the screen, now blank. “What the bloody, buggering hell was _that_? Betraying his friend? Bastard got what he deserved.”

“You liked it then?” Jack asked weakly, obviously unsure of his reaction. Well, he did get a bit intense sometimes.

“It was… fair. Entertaining. Betting there’s plenty I missed that would’ve added to the enjoyment, but I suspect you’ll educate me later, won’t you?”

Jack grinned. “Whether you want me to or not. It’s better to comply, you know… there are… _rewards._ ”

“Rewards,” Aster repeated, and then flipped them so Jack was pinned to the couch cushions. “Describe these rewards, mate. I need, ah, _incentive…_ ”

Jack slowly slid a chilly, pale foot up his inner thigh, coming to rest just below his groin, and grinned cheekily.

“Oh,” Aster murmured, even as he lowered his head for a kiss. “Those kinds of rewards. Teach me, then, Professor Jack… I’ll be a most _attentive_ student.”

  
  


  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 21 March 2013 -- Warren, evening**

“Well, that wasn’t as bad as you led me to believe,” Aster said, sounding amused. “Mind, not too much of a fan of this Betty person, but the fight scenes were good.”

“A lot of people haven’t liked the Hulk movies. I personally think they just have trouble doing a full movie about just him. I mean, all rage and no brains is kind of… flat, after a while.”

“He’s got brains,” Aster protested defensively. “He’s Bruce, just… big and green and showing his anger. Bet he could talk, too, if those idiots would just stop shooting at him. He’s capable of recognizing people, and a bit of planning. You don’t get that kind of fight choreography out of dumb mutts, after all!”

“Aster?” Jack questioned softly. “There something you want to tell me? You sound like you’re taking this a bit too personally.”

“I… Chocolate’s not good for Pooka,” he said weakly. And didn’t look at Jack. “I don’t… remember much. Just… anger. And six arms.”

Jack blinked and felt himself flush. “Six… arms?”

“Yeah. Possibly fangs, too, but I’ve never looked in a mirror like that, so I don’t know. And like I said, I don’t remember much.”

“But you do remember some things?” Jack leaned forwards and placed a hand on Aster’s thigh. So maybe the idea of six-armed sex was hot. Sue him.

“Yeah, a few things. Mostly when I’m deep in thought - which means just before doing something tricky and painful to the enemy.”

“Ever, ah, tried it without getting in a fight?” Jack asked innocently.

“No. We are not having sex while I’m high on chocolate.”

“Aster,” Jack whined, using his best ‘puppy dog’ expression on the Pooka.

“ _No_ , Jack. I’m half again as big as I am now, no fine motor control, and I’d probably not recognize you too well.”

Jack pouted.

“What’d I miss about this movie?” he asked, in something like desperation.

Jack waved a hand dismissively. “Mostly, I wanted you to get a good grounding in Banner’s backstory. The rest doesn’t much matter. They changed actors for the Avengers, as you might have noticed.”

“Oh, radiation can do lots to a bloke’s appearance.”

Jack snorted. “I know you’re smarter than that. Tease. But seriously, we can move on to the others now. You just needed to see the origin story.”

“I like the Hulk. What’s the next movie?”

“Iron Man 2.”

“Him again?”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Friday, 22 March 2013 -- Warren, evening**

“Well?” Jack queried.

“So did she quit or not?” Aster looked down at Jack. “And _we_ don’t look like that when kissing, do we?”

Jack snickered. “I don’t think so, and no, not really.”

“Then, I liked it. Bit thinner than the other one, not quite sure why. Did they really need the alcoholism to be so… there?”

“It’s one of Stark’s biggest flaws. They wanted to explore it more in this movie.” Jack shrugged.

Aster gestured towards the screen. “I think someone as smart as Stark would know better than to get in his suit and get _drunk_.”

Jack cocked his head thoughtfully. “Does chocolate do that thing to all Pooka?”

“Dunno, it didn’t exist pre-Earth. And we’re not having sex while I’ve got six arms!”

“No, no, I was just thinking. If it had existed, do you think some people would have been choco-holics just because they liked the six-armed thing? I think it’s the same deal - some people _like_ how alcohol makes them feel. Sometimes a bit too much.”

“Lack of memory doesn’t mean lack of cognitive thought,” Aster muttered. “And… maybe. But - the suit?”

“Tony’s a genius. Not necessarily in all areas. People do stupid things when drunk. He probably got in it _after_ getting wasted.”

“Fine. Then what’s with the heavy-handed bit with Natasha or Natalie or whatever her name really is? Stark’s the former CEO of a major company. Corporate spies.”

“Black Widow’s name is Natasha Romanov,” Jack said, grinning. “And it’s because he needs it.”

“He needs to miss someone deliberately putting a spy in his company? Not a SHIELD spy, but if I’d been in his spot, I’d have been thinking that Hammer idiot got a good idea and found someone with loose morals and large chest.”

Jack shook his head fondly. “I love you, you big over-analyzer you.”

“They should’ve sent that guy with the bow, from the Avengers,” Aster decided. “He’d’ve been believable, and Pepper wouldn’t have been thinking her boss would start sleeping with women again.”

“Clint Barton. Hawkeye,” Jack clarified, nodding. “Maybe, but _Scarlett Johansson_. She sells movies.”

“Maybe he knew. Maybe that’s why he promoted her. Keep your enemies close, and all that.” Aster nuzzled Jack’s hair.

“Maybe. So,” Jack drawled slowly, crawling forward and grinning lopsidedly. “I’m horny. Mind fixing my little problem?”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Saturday, 23 March 2013 -- Warren, late evening**

“... Y’know, I think this version of Thor is smarter than ours,” Aster muttered.

Jack fell over laughing and rolled off the couch, thumping his head against the coffee table. He grunted at the pain, but kept laughing anyway.

“Ah, shut yer gob, Frostbite!” Still, it was hard not to laugh with him.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Sunday, 24 March 2013 -- Warren, evening**

Aster cocked his head when Jack sighed. “Something you want to share with the class?”

“Um, no?” Jack ducked his head. “Nothing relevant? You’ll see.”

Right. Watch the movie and keep an eye on his mate. Nothing new there.

He sat through the laser cutting a hole into the… was that supposed to be a plane? It wasn’t. Shape was all wrong. But then the - explorers? - found the shield, which even Aster, at this point, knew was a big deal.

“Ah, yes, the obligatory period piece,” he muttered. Jack elbowed him in the stomach.

The young Steve Rogers… Aster shifted a touch in his seat. “Small, stubborn, and brave,” he said. “Very nice.”

Jack eyed him sidelong. “Something _you_ want to share with the class?”

“Oh, you know I’m a fan of, well… like you.” Aster gestured to his mate’s body. “Slender, shorter, stubborn, and brave.”

He’d never get over how cute Jack’s blush was. Or how attractive.

“Um…”

“Watch the movie?” Aster questioned innocently.

“Right, right.” Jack nodded emphatically, trying valiantly to ignore his blush.

Aster smirked, and looked back at the movie.

Steve Rogers managed to get into the army, and started in on basic. And weren’t those fun memories? He did _not_ cringe, even though he rather wanted to. Basic hadn’t been worse than the war, but it’d tried. So very hard.

“I did that,” he said, and nodded at Steve jumping on a fake grenade. “Almost the same situation, too.”

Jack blinked up at him. “Seriously?”

“Well, one I did a swan dive on was real, but yes.”

Jack paused the movie. “Did… did it hurt?”

“I wasn’t on it when it blew up, or I wouldn’t be here.” Aster thumped Jack lightly on the head. “Getting my arse kicked by my CO, _that_ hurt.”

Jack giggled and unpaused the movie. Though he did push in closer to Aster’s side. It was nice.

“Did that too,” Aster added, when Steve staggered out of the ‘vita-ray’ chamber. And why did he have a feeling ‘vita-rays’ were the period term for ‘gamma rays’?

“Huh? Like, magic-science rays or something?” Jack asked, clearly bewildered.

“Like, in two months of basic training I shot up two feet and gained a hundred and twenty pounds of muscle,” Aster said dryly. “Bit of a surprise, everyone else in my family tended to the runty.”

“Oh.” Jack said dumbly, and then blushed. “I like your muscles.”

“Well, good. I worked hard for them. I like how you’re a perfect armful, don’t grow.”

Jack grinned brightly and turned back to the movie.

During the rescue, Aster started snickering.

Jack eyed him sidelong. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

“Captain America? Punched Hitler?” He smirked down at Jack. “Just… had a sudden image of you calling yourself Captain Winter or something, and claiming to have punched Pitch two-hundred times. Was funny.”

Jack had to pause the movie, he was laughing so hard.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“So, gonna tell me why you sighed earlier, Jackie?” Aster asked after the credits, tightening his grip on Jack’s shoulder slightly to emphasize that he wasn’t getting out of talking.

“Ah. Favorite movie. Even with…” He bit his lower lip. “Favorite movie?”

“You identify a bit with Steve, don’t you?” Aster questioned, sure of his guess. “Being ignored; too small, and too scrawny, to do much?”

“I… it wasn’t like that,” he said weakly. “I had WINTER, I had… well, you. I could do plenty. Can. _Can_ do plenty. And, I mean, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this lately, but I’m kind of a legend in WINTER, you know, now…”

“But at first…?” Aster prompted gently. “I know it was several decades until they found you. And I know Manny failed to tell you anything useful.”

“Until I found _you_ ,” Jack corrected. “And Manny’s a dick.”

He paused as he chewed that over in his head. “Huh. That’s right. You found me first. Then they found you. Strange how things work out.”

“What would’ve happened if you’d woken up before Kern showed?”

Aster hummed. “I’d like to think I’d have given you time to explain, considering all the satyrs were down and I wouldn’t have remembered what happened. Maybe we’d have made friends back then? Who knows?”

“I’d have… really liked that,” Jack admitted. “But things worked out this way.”

“I’m glad they did,” he conceded. “Couldn’t think of a finer mate than you.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Monday, 25 March 2013 -- Warren, evening**

“Okay. Are you _sure_ you can spare the time, this close to Easter? It can wait, you know,” Jack asked again, like he had every night since they started watching the Marvel movies.

“I’m sure. The numbers are good.” Aster sighed, as he did every time Jack asked. “You’ve been helping. Mind, it’s a good thing this is the last movie for a bit, but it’s _fine_. Promise.”

Jack nodded and pressed play.

“And look on the bright side, Snowflake. At least this time I won’t be pestering you with questions every five seconds.”

No. As it turned out, he pestered Jack with “Oh, that makes a lot more sense now” every five seconds. At least until he got elbowed in the stomach half a dozen times.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“Alright.” Aster looked down at Jack. “Who was that last bloke, the smiling one that made you get all… giddy?”

“That was… that was…” Jack giggled. “Thanos! I’d forgotten! How’d I forget?”

“Who…?”

“He’s a superhuman alien guy. He’s crazy, and powerful, and an awesome villain. He fell in love with Death, and wants to impress her badly. If I’m right, they’re building up towards one of the biggest story arcs they ever did - the Infinity Gauntlet. Thanos collects these six special gems and tries to kill half the sentient life in the universe to win Death’s favor. The heroes stop him, of course.”

“Of course.” Aster hid his uneasiness. “Don’t suppose the writers met Pitch, did they?”

“Huh. Never thought of it like that before. No, I don’t think so?”

“Just a familiar story, I suppose.” He rubbed Jack’s arm. “So. Tradition for movie nights, _if_ I remember correctly, involves a bit of necking after…?”

Jack grinned ferally. “It’s a _tradition_ , now? Well, who am I to argue with _tradition_?”

“Exactly,” Aster said, and pulled Jack down on top of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "..."  
> Corgi's Addendum: She is "tired and sore and happy and squee" from horseback riding today for the first time in ages and can't come up with anything to say right now. ^_^
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "The body painting scene was very fun. And the comic book commentary is partially from my own experience, growing up in a comic shop, and stories I've heard about how people treated old comics at times."


	24. Chapter 24

**Sunday, 31 March 2013 -- Bern, Bern, Switzerland, morning**

Easter Sunday dawned bright and early, a perfect spring-tide morning. The frost on the ground promised to melt with the sun’s rise; the morning chill was enough to put a bounce in everyone’s step, but not numb fingers and noses. Jackets were not required.

It had taken a bit of work to get the weather - _everywhere_ \- just right. But it was their first Easter together, as a couple. Jack figured it was worth the effort.

Especially since Aster appreciated said effort, quite a bit. Last night had been… _fun_.

‘Fun’ was a _good_ word for it.

“Huh.” He leaned forward on his staff. “There aren’t so many hand-painted this year.”

“‘S not important, Jackie. Quantity is, after what happened,” Aster muttered from his hiding spot behind a large bush, as he watched the children laughing and playing and searching for more eggs.

Jack didn’t bother to hide. His handful of believers were in Burgess, Pennsylvania, not… where was this, somewhere in Switzerland? The kids wouldn’t see him. “Did I apologize for that? Because if I didn’t, I meant to. I’m sorry.”

Aster shot him a look. “Yes. At least a dozen times already. And I keep telling you it’s not even mostly your fault. Pitch got to ya, mate. I can’t really blame you for that.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “WINTER Agent,” he said, as if that explained everything. Well, it was his main arguments rolled up into one: training, experience, protective magics… and Pitch had gotten past it all because hey, he’d had Jack’s teeth!

Now that he’d had time to dwell on it, well… He really, _really_ wanted to copy Tooth and punch the Boogieman in the mouth. A few dozen times. Or something like that.

He probably would’ve continued on in that vein, at least until getting distracted, but a small child stopped abruptly just then. It wasn’t possible to tell gender; the child was young enough to be androgynous, and its - His? Her? - worrywart parents had wrapped… him… in several layers of sweaters and coats. The child clutched a single blue egg in his hands, and was staring… not at Aster, hidden behind the bush, but Jack.

“Der Frost?”

“Ah… hallo?” Great. Of all the times to not know Swiss. Jack settled for a wave and a smile. The child beamed, held up the egg, babbled something incomprehensible - probably even so to native speakers - and then ran off.

Aster chuckled. “Don’t know German, Frostbite?”

“Thought they spoke Swiss in Switzerland,” he muttered.

The Pooka shook his head. “Nah mate. German, French, Italian. Mostly German, at least in my experience.”

Jack frowned at his mate. “How do you _know_ that? You don’t even know who Scarlet Witch is, but you know what languages they speak in Switzerland?”

“Ja.” That smirk was going to get Aster killed one of these days.

On the other hand… Jack looked out over the laughing children. Somewhere in that crowd, he had a new believer. He looked back at Aster. “You’re _so_ getting laid tonight, Cottontail.”

Aster flashed him a grin of triumph and stood, nodding to the little girl who’d seen Jack and was now frozen in giddy surprise at the sight of the two of them. He quickly double-tapped the ground and opened a tunnel. “Coming Frostbite? Other places to check on before the day is out, you know. Clocks ticking and all that.”

Jack hopped up until he hovered in the air. “Race you!”

“You’re on, mate.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Sunday, 31 March 2013 -- Warren, ‘Jack should have his ass in bed-o-clock’**

Jack stumbled over… dust. No dust. But he stumbled, oh yes he did, and fell against the wall. “Every year?” he mumbled, in something approaching surprise. Actual surprise would have to wait for three days of sleep and a gallon or two of coffee, he figured. As much as he could figure anything.

“Well,” Aster knelt next to him, huffing himself. “If you hadn’t insisted on racing _everywhere_ ….”

He picked Jack up and stumbled forward to flop haphazardly onto the couch, half-on, half-off. Mostly off, though he’d succeeded in getting Jack mostly on. His head came to rest on Jack’s chest. Aster’s warm breath tickled Jack’s chin as he panted.

“Racing’s fun,” he said, once the words lined up properly in his brain.

“Too- too right, but _all day_ …?” And a pause for more panting. Well, at least he’d tuckered the guy out. “Bit much, even fer- for me.”

“Amazing stamina not up to the task?” Jack smirked, and dug his fingers into Aster’s ruff. “Poor baby.”

“Look who’s talking, babyface.” Half-smirk, if only because the other half had the Pooka’s tongue lolling out to rest on Jack’s hoodie.

Which was getting damp.

“Are you _drooling_ on me?” Jack poked at Aster’s head. “Really?”

Aster purred faintly and licked Jack’s hand in retaliation.

“That’s disgusting.” Jack tapped the Pooka on the nose, and then relaxed into the couch cushions. “Your turn to do the laundry.”

Jack watched in amusement as Aster’s nose twitched rapidly in response to the tap. He also went a bit cross-eyed until it stopped. “Stop that. North does that. Too often. It tickles.”

“Does he? I’ve only seen him bop your nose once or twice…?” Eh, more fun to dig his fingers into thick fur and scratch gently. Better reactions, too. The purring was very nice.

His partner half-shrugged and hefted himself up properly onto the couch, flopping down on top of Jack, pressing him down further into the cushions. Aster nuzzled his face into Jack’s neck, purring contentedly all the while.

“Y’know,” Jack muttered, continuing his gentle ministrations. “We could do something incredibly athletic and pleasurable that’ll be sure to make us pass out from exhaustion, or we could just do a rain check, skip the exercise, and sleep. Right now.”

Aster nodded faintly and started snoring.

Jack blinked several times. He’d expected something at least pretending to be discussion… but honestly, it wouldn’t have ended any other way. Sleep good. Do it now.

Thankfully, he was quite comfortable.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 11 April 2013 -- Warren, afternoon**

Aster held tight to Jack’s ankle, so he couldn’t jerk away. “Don’t tell me you’re ticklish,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to his mate’s big toe.

Jack tried to twitch. “It’s the whiskers,” he said, breath speeding up a touch. “It, um- Bunny!”

Aster chuckled, and licked Jack’s toe again. “Is it now?”

“You’re - ah - a horrible tease and no one likes- likes- umm…”

He licked a long stripe, heel to toes, and then sucked on the big toe. “Forget what you were saying?” he asked, mockingly ‘innocent’ for all that he was worth. “Wonder why?”

“You suck.”

“If you want me to _suck…_ ” He nibbled on the tips of Jack’s toes, and then smirked up at Jack. “All you had to do was _ask_.”

“Bun _ny_...!” Jack panted, a not-quite-whine, obviously hard and straining against his tight leather pants.

Aster left off his mate’s foot, and crawled up until he crouched over Jack, arms bracketing his shoulders and knees to either side of his hips. “I’m sorry, did you want something?”

Jack panted for several seconds before he started shoving Aster downwards with one hand, and untying his belt with the other. “You. Mouth. There. _Now_.”

“What, not going to ask nicely?” Aster caught both of Jack’s hands in one of his, and smirked. “That’s not very mannerly of you, now is it, Frostbite?”

“R-rack off and let go!”

Oh ho! Was Jack starting to adopt _his_ slang now? Aster opened his mouth to reply, but froze when someone cleared their throat behind him.

“Well. Perhaps we should return in the proximate hour. They appear… preoccupied.”

Bugger. He _knew_ that voice. And if whoever Seraphina was with didn’t agree to leave immediately, she might very well insist on a _show_.

Mother Nature. No act of mating was too disturbing for her. And there was _nothing_ more off-putting than someone explaining all the ways you were doing it _wrong_. Aster settled against Jack’s front, to provide his mate with some decency until he’d calmed down - though there was no helping the frosty blush that had shot down the sprite’s neck and covered his face - and turned towards their ‘guests’.

Ah. Mother Nature and her Guard, the Snow Queen. What was her name again… Anita? Jack’d said it at least once or twice, he was sure…. That didn’t sound right though. Annie? Oh, bugger.

“Can we help you two?” he asked, tone sharp. “We’re kind of in the middle of something-”

“Anika! What the hell!” Jack glared at the Snow Queen, paused, and then flipped Seraphina off. “Go away!”

 _Anika_. Right, right. Aster shook his head; his memory some days.

“Not my idea, Jack. Talk to the other lady,” she replied, rolling her eyes and gesturing with her thumb towards Mother Nature. “She insisted this couldn’t wait.”

“And it cannot, more’s the pity. Although you may continue, if you wish.” Seraphina looked much like any wildlife biologist watching a rare species in the wild doing… what he and Jack had been intending on doing. Rather intent, that expression, and utterly clinical. “I can explain whilst you perform mutual masturbation. Or was it fellatio that young Jackson was requesting of you when we arrived?”

Jack groaned, and knocked the back of his head against the ground. “I hate you. All of you. So much.”

Aster sighed and carefully checked that ‘little Jack’ had ‘retreated’ for the time being, fixing Jack’s pants while he was at it, before sitting up properly and pulling Jack up against his side. His instincts demanded that he put himself between the intruders and his mate, but he settled on hugging Jack to his torso protectively.

Seraphina looked like she was about to make a comment, but Anika set one hand over the woman’s mouth. “Is there anywhere you would prefer to have this conversation?” she asked, and smiled faintly. “Although, I know you would rather we didn’t talk at all.”

“Here’s fine,” Aster deadpanned, unamused. “Out with it, so we can get _on with it_ when you lot _leave_.”

Seraphina pried Anika’s hand away from her face, and nodded. “As you like. I require Agent Frostbite’s aid.”

Jack twitched next to him. “Uh, why? I mean, you don’t usually need any help.”

“Too many pots,” she murmured, sounding strangely… normal. “Omnipresence only goes so far. Divide my attention too much, and quality dips greatly; it becomes far too fractured for any one mind, even mine, to comprehend. I was mortal once too, as you should well know.”

“I think I skipped that briefing,” Jack snarked. “Help with what, then?”

“A storm, not of my making. In Africa. Sudan, to be exact. It needs management and dispersal.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Not sure you’ve noticed, but I’m a _winter_ spirit, and Africa doesn’t get much in the way of _snow_. You sure I’m the right guy to ask?”

She gazed at him blandly. “Firstly, you are no mere spirit; you are an _elemental_. Secondly, it shouldn’t be snowing in southern Egypt and northern Sudan. And then raining ten minutes later, followed by an exceedingly damp dust storm. And then recycling to snow.”

Aster blinked. Nope, that wasn’t normal at all. “And you think Jack can handle it?” His mate smacked him in the shoulder. “What? You’re _one_ guy. And if _she_ can’t do it…” He gestured at Seraphina.

“He can also see the personifications. A rare talent, that, and much needed for unnatural weather. I have… too much to attend to, at this time, or I would see to it myself. Sparing a body to speak with you here is distracting from my tasks in… Bermuda, at the moment.”

Jack sighed, and leaned sideways against Aster. “Oh, alright. I’ll deal with the Sudan. Does it have to be right _now_?”

Anika snorted behind her hand, concealing any laughter with obvious effort. Seraphina smirked faintly. “It will keep for another… hour, at most. Surely your mate can assist you in traveling with the utmost of haste, so I will leave it for you to handle as you please.”

“Great.” Jack flipped his hand in clear dismissal. “You got in here on your own, you can leave on your own, why are you still here? Go. Away. Somewhere not here. Bu-bye!”

The last sound they heard was Anika breaking down in laughter as Seraphina spirited them away.

  
  


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**Thursday, 11 April 2013 -- northern Sudan, midday**

The Wind shrieked in fury, and tossed him from current to current like a sack of grain between farmhands. Seraphina hadn’t been kidding. This region’s weather was _messed. The fuck. Up_. He almost wished he _couldn’t_ see the weather personifications; the horses, birds, and wolves were wrapped in spectral chains that dug into their intangible flesh, drawing blood. They fought the chains, but weather personifications just weren’t that _strong_ , really.

Unbeatable in their own field, but put in a different scenario, not so much.

Jack spread himself out over the Wind’s back, and looked towards the nearest wind-horse. Poor thing. It looked like one of those fancy purebloods bred for the desert, but unlike flesh-and-blood mortal horses, this one was perfect. Jack, whose experience was _still_ mostly limited to the mules and donkeys from his home village, could tell that much.

But the wind-horse had been bridled with magic that tore at its mouth, with spectral reins trailing off into the unseeable distance, forcing the poor thing’s head around at an angle that would break a mortal beast’s neck. More chains were shot _through_ the wind-horse’s body, wrapped around its legs, and otherwise forced it against its own nature.

“Right,” Jack growled, and felt the Wind gather herself. “Let’s try taking out those chains.”

She shrieked her approval, and they dove forward as one. Jack focused his magic in front of him, near the end of his staff, preparing to slice through the chains as he passed. The rogue winds buffeted against their approach, but they persisted and came in for a strike.

His staff bounced off the chains with a peal of thunder and a crack of lightning; he was thrown a good half-mile away, in free fall before his Wind caught him, mere yards above the ground. Jack snarled, and the Wind carried him back up into the sky at speeds that threatened to peel the skin from his face.

Whatever. Aster probably knew how to heal that sort of thing. Probably.

So. Cutting the chains wasn’t going to work. Unless he wanted to set off lightning and thunder and get flung every which way… which he didn’t.

What should he try _next_?

  
  


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**Tuesday, 30 April 2013 -- northern Sudan, early evening**

The wind whistled in his ears, almost drowning out the Wind’s furious scream. Just under _that_ was the anguished howl of a pain-maddened wind-wolf, as the Wind devoured it whole. Jack had a hard time feeling sorry for the wind-wolf. It had tried to tear him limb from limb, even with the chains shattered.

The horses ran, as horses were wont to do. The birds - everything from tiny songbirds to falcons and eagles - seemed split between attacking and fleeing. The wolves, well, they were split too, it seemed. Jack had no idea why, but the Wind had no problems dealing with them. She was bigger than the wind-horses, even, and that had been _before_ she’d started eating their attackers.

Now, well… he was just glad she was on his side.

Now, she was the size of a large truck, at least, though Jack may have exaggerated that a tad, but she was _very much_ larger than the horses and, more importantly, _him_. She was pretty much fully visible to him now, too, without any concentration or discomfort. She greatly resembled several varieties of eagle-owl, including the large ear tufts over her glowing, golden-orange eyes. She was mostly white, with speckles of grey and black scattered throughout her plumage, and a very black, _very_ sharp, set of talons, with matching beak. Translucent like all personifications, she was still a sight to behold.

Yes. Very glad she was on his side.

Especially since she insisted on catching him in her talons. Like she did just now.

The Wind’s toes were thicker than his bicep - or even Aster’s. Translucent or not, it was like having a steel bar wrapped around his middle. A few steel bars, one for every toe. Then, she flipped over in midair and _threw_ him up. He got a few hundred feet in height, just enough to reach the nearest personification and get to work.

Neither direct assaults, nor ranged had worked to free them. Ice nor snow, sleet or any other elemental conjuring he could manifest. It had taken much experimentation and weeks of work to figure out how to free the spiritual beasts.

The chains needed _pure magic_ to cut them. Not distilled into an elemental conjuring, not half-formed. Pure. And he was absolutely crap at pure magic. Or, had been.

And the icing on the cake was that he had to touch the chains to work the magic. His hands were… not something he wanted to look at; the magic in the chains was nasty, burning away the skin on his palms and fingers no matter how many layers of ice he covered his hands in.

Jack caught the nearest chain in one hand, and sent pure ice magic coursing through both the contact, and his staff. The chain grew brittle, and shattered when he smashed his staff through the links. The personification - some kind of hawk - screamed and managed to buck in midair. The Wind caught him before he fell too far away, and tossed him back so he could break the next chain.

And the next.

And the next.

And the ones after that, too.

It was _exhausting_ work. He’d not been home in at least a week, since he’d figured out the trick and put it into practice. Aster had to be going mad with worry - he’d told the Pooka, in no uncertain terms, that he was _not_ to follow. Jack couldn’t spare the time to watch out for him, and Aster, as skilled as he was, wasn’t exactly equipped for long-term desert survival, let alone under freak storm conditions.

Oh. Yeah. Every time he freed one of the personifications, the weather got _weirder_. Everything from constant thunder and lightning - and oh, did he mean _constant_ , electrocution was _not_ fun - to sideways tornados, to - the normally rare - ball lightning, and Saint Elmo’s Fire along the Wind’s wings, hail that never reached the ground, and…

Well. Weird, weird weather.

The falcon personification flung him away with the last shards of the final chain, and winged it before the Wind could chow down. Jack spread himself out, too tired for acrobatics, and waited to be caught.

Which she did a few seconds later, catching him, spread-eagled, across her great expanse of a back, nestled snugly between her wings as they beat against the furious storm. Or, wait, scratch that. Not quite-as-furious-as-before storm. That was apparently the _last_ last personification, so now he could get down to the ‘real’ job.

Dissipating the storm. After the weeks’ long fight with the personification, this should be a cakewalk. Or so he hoped.

Catching his breath, he flipped backwards off the Wind’s back and caught himself in a little twirl of wind in her wake, floating in the air while she took off at his silent command, preparing for her part as ‘sheepdog’ to the clouds’ ‘sheep’. He closed his eyes, and focused, searching for the storm’s center of - well, metaphysical mass. Intangible, but much the same concept as with a physical object.

It took longer than it should have, but he found it. The Wind screamed, and dove through the clouds, beak snapping and talons slashing as she forced the clouds apart. They _wanted_ to be bunched up. They _wanted_ to toss lightning bolts from one side to the other.

Well they weren’t allowed, and that was that. Jack directed the Wind, as he’d directed sheepdogs so long ago, and fed power to her when she began to falter. They were both tired, and it showed, but he wasn’t going to let one _measly_ storm stop him, no matter how large it had been.

He had no idea how long it took. The Wind beat the clouds to shreds with her wings, flew back and forth and up and down and all over the sky as she did, forcing the spectral herds to expend their energy on something other than lightning and hail. Jack was flung all around by the different currents. Updrafts threw him so high he could see the horizon curving. Downdrafts nearly smashed him into the ground. At one point, he missed hitting some old temple or other - lion god maybe, judging by the reliefs, and why did he _care_ right now? - by the skin of his nose. Sideways drafts weren’t quite as bad, but still. Hello scenery, nice to see you.

Time passed, but it was meaningless in this fight. The clouds began to disperse naturally, a little here and a little there, until Jack looked around and he and the Wind were alone in the sky.

At that point, the pain hit.

His eyes rolled back, and he fell from the sky.

It wasn’t the Wind that caught him though.

It was Aster.

“Don’t worry Snowflake. I gotcha, I gotcha,” his mate murmured soothingly in his ear as he raced through his tunnels and back to the Warren.

“Wind,” Jack mumbled, eyelids fluttering as he tried to look around, and couldn’t. “She…”

“Shush, Jackie. She’s nipping at my heels, don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

Jack glared at the backs of his eyelids, having failed to open as he requested. He was too tired and too sore to sustain any emotion for long, though. The trip faded away, the only sensation that of being held close to Aster’s chest, warmth surrounding him. Time twisted and folded in on itself, and next he knew, he was on a bed and Aster was bathing his hands with a wet cloth.

“Crikey,” he heard Aster say.

“Yeah.” He didn’t need to look; he knew. He’d seen the effects when he’d first started breaking the chains. The flesh on his palms had been eaten away, like chemical burns. At some points it was possible to see bone. His fingers had been forced into claws, and it was barely possible to wiggle them.

“I’ve not seen much worse, but I can fix it easy, mate. You just rest, okay?”

“Okay.” Rest. He could finally _rest_.

There didn’t seem to be much point in staying awake. Not with Aster here. Not with the job done. So he stopped fighting the darkness, and let himself drop away into oblivion.

  
  


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**Thursday, 2 May 2013 -- Warren, late morning**

Jack woke slowly, humming softly as the most pleasant of sensations emanated from his feet. It took him several minutes to summon the brain power to actually care what was going on down there. When he finally managed to command his eyes to open successfully, he looked down to discover Aster was… was…

“Are you giving me a _foot massage_?” Jack croaked, voice rusty from disuse, surprise coloring his words.

 _Though, in hindsight, he_ does _have a foot fetish._

“Got a problem with that?” Aster did something to Jack’s toes that threatened to melt the winter spirit into a puddle of goo. “Seems to me you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Aaah… no, no. Keep doing - ah - that. Yeah…” Jack shifted up a touch so he could see better. And noticed then how restrictive his pants felt. “I see you woke ‘little Jack’ long before me. Tease.”

“What, never heard of reflexology?” Aster pressed his thumbs into the arch of Jack’s foot, just enough pressure to feel _divine_. “Made a study of it, I did.”

“Is…” Jack sighed happily. “Is that some sort of medical thing? It’s got an -ology on it. Got to be medicine.”

Aster just chuckled, and switched to the other foot. “If I had the rocks for it… but you probably wouldn’t like hot rocks between the toes.”

“It’d be kind of… strange,” Jack admitted. “Probably too much. I’m a bit sen- _sensitive,_ oh that’s a nice spot-”

He really should have been more concerned about that smile. Really. But, to be fair, he’d only just woken up and he was still exhausted from… whatever it was he’d done before. So he was caught entirely by surprise when Aster bent down and began licking and nibbling his toes. “Gah!”

“Surprise,” Aster mumbled dryly around Jack’s big toe, which tickled a bit from the sensations of speech. Pleasantly so.

Jack groaned, and fumbled at his belt. His fingers were stiffer than normal. After a moment, he figured out why.

“What the hell? Gloves?” Gloves that made his hands look twice as big as normal, and he was kind of worried as to _why_.

Aster pulled off Jack’s toes with a wet ‘pop’. “Bandages, actually. Your hands are taking their time reacting to my medications, so they’re not fully healed as of yet. ‘Fraid you’ll be without hands for another day or three, mate.”

Without… Jack stared down at his too-tight pants in something akin to horror. “Bunny! Help!”

Chuckling, Aster reached out to undo the belt buckle- and then Jack swatted him with his forearm.

“If I can’t have hands, neither can you,” he said, mock pouting. “Find another way to fix it.”

Aster raised his eyebrows. “Really, mate? You want to go that route?” He smirked, and sat up.

The Pooka leaned forward, lips barely a hair’s breadth from the leather, skimming along Jack’s thigh and breathing hotly. Jack shivered in anticipation. Bunny carefully placed his mouth around the belt buckle and then did - something - with his tongue and, suddenly, the belt popped free. The button followed quickly afterwards, but the zipper, a recent addition to Jack’s old pants, seemed to be stuck.

“What, having problems?” he mocked, even as he shivered and began shifting his feet further downward on the bed.

Aster bit right through the leather and pulled the pants down in one smooth motion.

“... You’re fixing those. You broke ‘em.”

“I thought it was ‘you break it, you buy it’? If so, they’re mine now. I’m not giving them back,” Aster replied glibly, smirking. “Least not until I feel like covering you back up.” He followed that comment up with a leer.

“Cottontail…” Jack took a deep breath, and shrugged. “Yeah, sure, fine. Whatever. Just-”

There were some minor complications getting the pants over his feet, which ended up with Jack even further down the bed. Useful, considering his dastardly plans.

He smiled beatifically at Aster, and ever so slowly trailed his toes up along the Pooka’s calf, to the back of his knee. “So, I think I owe you thanks for how I woke up this morning,” he murmured.

Aster shivered and turned to gaze at Jack with eyes gone completely dilated _already_. “Ah, uh, you don’t say?”

“Don’t I? I thought I just did?” Jack looked confused, even as his toes - and attached foot - began a slow trip up Aster’s thigh. He paused, just before nudging Aster’s ball sack with his big toe.

His partner froze. Apparently he hadn’t expected Jack to go _there_. “Jack…?”

“Mm?” Jack concentrated. This wasn’t like grabbing onto his staff with his feet, or perching on a railing. For one thing, wood and metal didn’t care about toenails and pressure. Flesh and blood, on the other hand… did.

Thankfully. It made this _so_ much easier.

Jack shifted so that his toes were fully beneath Aster’s sack and he wiggled them a bit, eliciting a sharp intake of breath, which was quickly followed by a heavy exhale when he clambered them up to catch Aster’s sheath between his first two toes. He ever so slowly stroked upwards experimentally.

“Jack!” Aster groaned, even as his sheath got a little less full. “ _Ja-ack_.”

Ah. Well. So far, so good. Perhaps if he stroked a little faster…? There we go - Aster started to unsheathe, further and further as Jack stroked with only his two toes. Shifting his body a bit closer, he brought his other foot into play, nudging around behind Aster’s sack again and tickling at the Pooka’s perineum.

Aster gasped, and slammed his hands down to either side of Jack’s head. “Fr- Frostbite. Jack. Ah- Yes!”

Grinning triumphantly, Jack carefully continued his ministrations, eventually moving so he could capture Aster’s prick between the arches of his feet. That seemed to nearly overcome his partner right then, though he seemed to be holding on as long as he could. Kinky rabbit.

“Keep this up,” Aster growled, lowering his head to nuzzle at Jack’s hair. “You might get more than you anticipated.” He groaned, stealing a bit of the ‘threat’ from his words, and made a single, shallow thrust against Jack’s feet before stilling.

Jack’s grin turned feral, and he sped up his actions, which had the side-effect of pulling himself down so that Aster’s cock was nearly touching his own sack with each shallow thrust that punctuated his strokes every so often. Aster started biting his lip, which, as Jack had learned, was a sure sign he was close.

“Gonna come for me?” Jack murmured huskily.

“Ah- _on_ you,” Aster managed. He gasped, and did just that, most of the liquid splattering onto Jack’s groin and hips. Jack groaned, and his hips jerked upwards of their own volition, no conscious thought required.

Aster’s arms wobbled, but he managed to hold himself up through his orgasm. The expression on his face… well, Jack was very smug, that was for sure. And then the Pooka’s eyes popped open and he gazed down at Jack, his own grin turning feral.

 _Uh oh_.

“Now look what you made me do,” Aster purred. “Tsk tsk. Now I’ve gone and made a mess all over you. I should get to cleaning that up.”

“Ah, cleaning?” Jack’s cock twitched, and he was sure his eyes doubled in size. “Cleaning how?” And how quickly could the Pooka get started with that?

Smirking, Aster shifted ever so slowly, dragging his tongue down Jack’s chest and pausing to lave first one nipple, then the other, before continuing down to his abdomen and starting to ‘clean’. If that’s what it could be called.

Jack decided fairly quickly that ‘teasing’ was much more accurate. And somehow unfair.

“Aster,” he whined, and did his very best not to thrust up and choke his lover. Even though he really, really wanted to. Minus the choking part. “Aster, c’mon!”

The only reply Aster made was to hum against his cock while licking it. That didn’t help matters any, but it was _very_ pleasing. And infuriating, since the Pooka _still_ avoided putting his mouth fully on Jack as he continued to bathe his cock, and then his balls, with his saliva. After a few more minutes of - of _torture_ , Jack decided - Aster pulled away, smug grin firmly in place.

Jack whined at the loss of stimulation, and glared. “Get back there! I’m not _done_ ye-et-”

Aster placed one of his huge, warm, and very furry footpaws on Jack’s cock and started kneading lightly.

 _Oh_. So that was his plan. Jack stopped wiggling. He continued whining though and shot Aster his best puppy dog look. In an effort to get _on_ with it.

“Patience,” Aster murmured, continuing with the maddening flex of his toes. “Just gotta have-” he paused to take a deep, appreciative breath. “-Patience.”

Jack started squirming again after only a minute’s wait. He couldn’t help it; the paw was surprisingly… _good_. If Aster kept that up, Jack figured he might actually explode from the tension alone.

“Aster.”

“Mmm?”

“Not that I’m - ah - not- not enjoying _this_.” Jack paused as Aster squeezed tightly for a moment. “But, ah, I’d really- _really_ like to-to-”

The Pooka chuckled. “To what, Snowflake? Get off?”

Jack bit his lip and nodded frantically.

“Well,” Aster drawled, continuing his _maddening_ kneading. “Would you like me to continue with m’foot, or take back over with m’tongue?”

Choices, choices… “Don’t care, just-!”

Aster’s paw finally, _finally_ started moving properly, catching Jack’s prick between his large - _oooh_ , so warm - toes. The fur tickled a bit, but not in a bad way. Quite the contrary, they heightened the sensations wonderfully. Had Jack been in a clearer frame of mind, he’d have been embarrassed by how quickly he got off once Aster started moving. As it was, he was too busy almost passing out from his sudden orgasm.

“Well, someone was a bit quick off the draw,” Aster said, smirking.

“You try being teased for fifteen - was it fifteen? I swear it was longer - minutes and see how you do,” Jack said, panting lightly.

“Ten. Ten minutes. Maybe eleven if you round up.”

Jack flopped back on the bed bonelessly and randomly flailed about with his foot until he caught fur and tugged. “Tired again. I blame you. Cuddle now.”

“Cuddling,” Aster said, purring again. “That I can do.” He dropped down onto the bed beside Jack, and wrapped an arm over the winter spirit’s chest. “Tell you what, Frostbite,” he murmured. “Later, I’ll help you with your bath…”

Jack cracked one eye open - when had they closed? - and said, voice slurred already, “I love you.”

He fell asleep to the sound of pleased purring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "The Wind is probably my favorite OC we've created. Does it show? Seraphina appears, stuff happens, and there is smut. What more can you ask for in a chapter?"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Plot. It happened. Did you see it?"


	25. Chapter 25

**Sunday, 23 June 2013 -- Workshop, North Pole, afternoon**

“Y’know, I thought this would be more interesting. Elves. Yeti. Elves trying to electrocute the yeti. Each other. _North._ ” Jack sighed. “And yet… dull city.”

Aster groaned, and didn’t move. “Shut up.”

“Or you could _leave_ ,” North suggested.

“Dun’ wanna.” Jack flopped onto Aster, causing him to grunt. “Make the elves _do_ something.”

North stopped… whatever he was doing. Aster couldn’t see from where he was. “They are doing something. They are doing many somethings. You are just not paying attention, or determined to be bored. This is Santa’s Workshop! Always something to do. Go test toys.”

“Dun’ wanna. ‘Sides, I _already_ did that. Bored now,” Jack drawled, before he snuck a hand around and underneath Aster and… started playing with his tail.

Aster caught Jack’s arm, and pulled. “None of that in front of the crazy man with the swords.”

“But I’m _booored_. Me, the Guardian of _Fun_. Is _bored_. This is a travesty. You know,” Jack said, eying Aster slyly. “You’re the _best_ distraction for that.”

Jack could be pretty annoying when he whined. And, Aster had to admit, pretty cute. He was so smitten, he was almost disgusted with himself. Almost.

“Then why did we come _here_?” he asked.

“Yes,” North said, echoing Aster. “Why _did_ you come here?”

“Because Aster keeps telling me ‘no sex, too busy’, so I had to find _some_ way to entertain myself. And then he came here and is doing _nothing_ , so I don’t see how he’s so _busy_ -”

Aster slapped a hand over Jack’s mouth and cleared his throat. “Right, um. I think I’ll just take him home. _Now_. And work off this energy-” Jack waggled his eyebrows and Aster immediately paused, before backtracking. “I mean, uh-”

He was saved further embarrassment by a Yeti running in and nattering on at North, who went from amused at Aster’s predicament to alarmed faster than the Pooka could blink.

“Forget the sex,” North snapped. “Come with me. There is problem with the globe.”

“What, _again_? You should really get that thing checked…!” Jack complained as he heaved himself off Aster’s chest, but not before lewdly licking the paw that had been covering his mouth.

Aster rolled his eyes, and kicked Jack - lightly - on the rear. “Be nice.” He stood up, and stretched. “Right then, let’s take a look. If it’s Pitch again, we’ll feed him to the Wind.”

He thought he heard Jack mutter “But isn’t Pitch still in the dungeon? Or did I miss that report?” as they walked out of the study, but was distracted from replying; nothing quite like heading out the door, only to see the Personification of Jack’s pet staring at him, head tilted at an impossible angle. Well, for a mammal, at any rate.

Owls. _Why_?

“Wind?” Jack at least seemed just as confused at the personification’s appearance. “Okay, funky town, we have arrived. What’cha doing here, bird brain?”

The Wind clacked its - his? Her? - beak, and puffed up the feathers around… her… beak. Right, Jack referred to the bloody avian as a female. Still, it was right strange for those without Jack’s gift to see elemental personifications. Jack had told him that she’d grown stronger, but there was stronger, and then there was _stronger_. Orders of magnitude stronger.

Aster was just glad she was an ally. And kind of liked him. Maybe?

Jack shrugged, and did an impossible leap up onto the next level. Aster would have followed - impossible leaps were one of his specialties, thank you - except for flying model airplanes, kites, and a few other bits and pieces of nonsense whirling about. Safer to take the stairs.

North was a few steps ahead of him, and began poking at the control panel. Aster took several steps to the side, the better to study the globe. Jack dropped down to perch on the railing next to him - very much like a bird, now that he thought about it - and seemed to study the globe just as intently as Aster did.

_Seemed_ to. Aster was probably the only person to hear Jack muttering under his breath. Mind, he was translating what North had written on the globe, but also adding commentary, so.

“The lights are going out in Egypt,” he said.

Jack looked at him, looked back at the globe, and then began walking around the globe, following Egypt for three whole revolutions, balancing precariously on the railing as if it were nothing.

“They are. Huh. Why?”

“Possible malfunction-” North began, but was cut off by the sound of a propeller aircraft buzzing down from the skylight.

Aster looked up and grinned.

“Sandy!” Jack exclaimed, flitting up to accompany the Dreamweaver in on his landing.

Sandy tinkled, in his way, a hello, as he landed, before turning to them with a serious expression. Images started flashing, faster and faster, until Aster felt dizzy just watching the display. Jack, who’d knelt down to eye level with Sandy, as was his wont, waved his hands at Sandy, staff nestled snuggly in the crook of one arm.

“Whoa, whoa, little man. Try me again? I don’t think I can move as fast as you were talking, let alone keep up with you.”

Sandy sighed and began gesturing slower, creating his shapes at a speed that they could keep up with. Images of Egypt, lightbulbs that popped and turned to dust, and a question mark, among others, flew by.

North frowned. “Yes, Sandy. Globe is acting funny. Egypt is not lighting up. Already seen; is probably malfunction. Am checking now.”

The Sandman glared at North and fumed, actual streams of sand shooting out of his ears like steam, much as the angry cartoon characters Jack had introduced him to a while back. Now that he thought about it, Sandy’d been doing that for yonks. Must have picked it up from the cartoons.

Or one of the cartoon writers had picked it up from Sandy. Either or. ‘As above, so below’ was the sort of thing annoying gods liked to mouth, as if it was words of wisdom, but it wasn’t wrong, either.

There was a _reason_ North had gone grey, gotten fat, and had an obsession with cookies.

Aster found it equal parts funny and annoying, depending on the day. He just thanked El-Ahrairah that he was a shapeshifter and belief didn’t affect him nearly as strongly. At least, in that way.

Before Sandy could start explaining, _again_ \- which, really, what did he expect? North was as thick as he was tall - Tooth flit in, nattering on at the veritable cloud of fairies trailing in her wake. Baby Tooth, predictably, peeled off and shot over to see Jack. A warm wind slid past him just then too, ruffling the fur around his midsection. Aster sighed. Quetzalcoatl. Copping a feel, as best he could in his wind form. How… expected.

“Y’know, if Jack catches you at that,” he muttered, “He’ll freeze them _both_ off. Savvy?”

Jack crowed abruptly. “I _knew_ you liked that movie! It’s rubbing off on you already!”

Aster titled his head in confusion, which only made Jack laugh harder.

He waved it off. “Tooth, what’re you doing here? You didn’t accidentally set off the Aurora, did you North?”

North shook a fist at him. “Is my Workshop, I ask the questions. Tooth, why are _you_ here? And no, I did not. See?” He pointed at the Aurora controls, which were still ‘off’, and also painted in a candy cane pattern now.

“Whatever,” he said, and turned back to the new arrival. “Tooth?”

“It’s Egypt,” she said, and then apparently grabbed thin air. “Quetza, be a dear and put in a physical appearance, won’t you? It’s a bit disconcerting - what is _that_?”

“The Wind,” Jack said. Aster didn’t look around. Life was always better when he wasn’t noticing the demonic owl looming over him. “She can manifest now. Go figure.”

The sad thing was, the Wind reminded him of one of his home planet’s predators, right before the Pooka had discovered weaponry and did their best to commit genocide. The Silver Eagles, as it best translated, had become quite rare, and probably would have been a protected species if not for their little habit of carrying off Pooka kits to eat.

That kind of took them off the Protected Species list. Just a bit.

Enraged parents were rather scary, whatever the species. And, if Aster wasn’t mistaken, Jack’s Wind had taken up a parental role over the sprite, though he didn’t think Jack was quite aware of that little fact quite yet.

“Oh, my,” Tooth murmured. She was looking up over Aster’s head, eyes wide. Yep. Not looking. “Well, she’s very… big. Quetza? Physical. Now would be good.”

The other wind hissed and swirled around Tooth for a moment, before spinning off and coalescing into the now-familiar half-man/half-snake form of Quetzalcoatl, bronzed scales and all. At least he was dressed this time. If you could call it that; snakes didn’t need pants, or even kilts.

The Wind made an ear-piercing sound of pain that, in retrospect, was probably a whistle and probably not meant to be that painful. Even Jack was wincing.

“Hey, Wind? Maybe none of that in enclosed spaces, okay?” He rubbed under one ear. “Tooth, you were saying?”

Aster felt the bulk behind him shift, as if nodding ponderously. It was disconcerting, how much air her manifestation displaced.

Still not looking. Better, all around, if he didn’t. Yes. Indeed.

“Ah, right.” Tooth caught hold of Quetza’s bicep, shot him an undecipherable look, and cleared her throat. “Egypt. It’s gone crazy! Riots in the streets, martial law has been declared - though to what good, I don’t know - and there are children crying themselves to sleep! Not even in their proper beds! And they’re not finding the change we leave behind!”

North blinked, and looked back at the globe.

“Well,” Aster deadpanned. “I don’t think the globe is malfunctioning.”

“Meeting?” Jack suggested.

Sandy waved at them and nodded, pointing at Tooth, and the globe, with an image of Egypt above his head.

“You knew?” North said. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Sandy fumed again. It would be funny, if not for the timing.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack floated over to the railing while the other Guardians argued about the situation in Egypt. North, predictably, wanted to charge in, guns blazing - so to speak - while Aster urged caution and scouting - also predictably, at least since he’d started working with Jack regularly, instead of against him. Tooth and Sandy were taking turns mediating between the two, though Tooth was intermittently distracted whenever Quetza moved around the room.

Yep. Totally smitten. It was kind of cute, in it’s own way.

He reach up to flick through the channels on his ear bud, tuning into the main line back to the Fortress itself. He figured if anyone had more information, it’d be the Intelligence department. He was equal parts relieved and annoyed when it wasn’t Edwin who answered. On the one hand, familiar and trusted. On the other, batshit crazy.

“WINTER Intelligence, Janna speaking. Please state your name, rank, and department for verification. If verification fails, I must assure you that the strike team is already in place and there won’t be anything left of your body to be found when you are killed.”

Jack blinked. Huh. Intelligence was downright _aggressive_ when they picked up. Who knew?

“Jack Frost. Regent. Babysitter of the disgruntled artistic rabbit extraordinaire.”

“Processing, please hold.”

And then _hold music?_ The fuck was wrong with this chick? Jack grinned when Aster paused in his debate to glare at him. Must have heard the ‘artistic rabbit’ bit.

The interminable hold music clicked, and then the Intelligence agent was back. “Agent Frostbite. For future reference, the correct phrasing for your department is ‘Surveillance’, not… what you said. I have marked down this warning in your file and _suggest_ you do not repeat your… paraphrasing.”

Jack rolled his eyes and refrained from commenting on her behavior. He could always take it up with Edwin later; surely he’d know someone who could straighten this lady out. “What have we got on the situation in Egypt?”

He heard the sound of a computer keyboard clacking away. “There is no situation in Egypt currently on WINTER’s watchlist.”

Jack’s eye twitched. “There are massive _riots_. And _martial law_. I’d call that a ‘situation.’”

More clicking. “That is a mortal situation and not under WINTER’s purview. May I suggest breaking into a police office and getting off the Intelligence dedicated line?”

“Okay. That’s _enough_ ,” Jack growled. “Listen here. I’m a _Regent_ , you... anti-fun person. If I say there’s a situation in Egypt, _there’s a situation in Egypt._ It’s affecting belief in the Guardians! I’d call that serious enough!”

A sigh. “Agent Frostbite, the Guardians are not members of WINTER. Previous wars have also affected levels of belief with non-lethal results. I can pull up relevant historical data, if you wish. Was there anything else?”

Jack growled in frustration. Aster held up a hand at North to wait, and marched over. “Give it here Frostbite.”

Jack glared at him, though there was no heat in it, before shrugging and handing it over. “Don’t know what good it’ll do you.”

Aster popped the earbud in after a moment’s struggle, and then said, very clearly, “This here is E. Aster Bunnymund. Jack Frost is your _Regent_. You do what he says, or else I sick your boss on you. I know him, and he’s _very_ fond of Jack. _Very_. And I don’t think you want to get on Edwin’s bad side.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Edwin likes me?”

Aster waved him off as he listened. “No, you listen. If you don’t cooperate this instant, I’m coming down there - fine fine, _over_ there, like it matters where the Fortress is _now_ in relation to the Pole - and talking to Edwin _myself_. How’d you like to be put through those Sensitivity Seminars Jack’s been telling me about for the last week? Yes, even _those_.”

Jack raised one hand. “Uh, Bunny? Darling, those seminars were thought up as forms of torture-minus-violence. They aren’t meant to be used on our own agents. You’d need two Regents to sign off.”

Aster grinned darkly, nodding along. “I know that. She knows that. She also understands that Odin is _very_ fond of you too, doesn’t she?” Aster paused as the earbud buzzed in reply. “Yes. That’s what I thought. _Thank you_. I’ll give you back to Jack now.”

There was an appropriate moment, right when Aster handed the earbud back but Jack hadn’t put it back in, and who was he to resist? “I love you. You’re getting laid tonight. For the record.” He put the earbud in, and grinned. “So, Janna! Situation in Egypt, lovely, and be quick about it. I’ve got a date tonight.”

Janna sighed, which caused a rush of static, and began typing again. “Please hold.”

The horrible music was totally worth it.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“Okay!” Jack commandeered the head of the table, simply by jumping up _onto_ the table and ignoring North’s attempts at dislodging him. “Egypt. Fun place, if you want pain and chaos and more pain and more chaos - and it’s actually not very fun at all.”

Aster leaned back in his chair, propping it up on two legs as he braced against the table’s edge. “Whatcha got for us, mate?”

“Well,” he said, drawing the word out until it was two or three syllables long, “Bad news or worst news first?”

“No good news, eh? Well then, lets have the worst first. At least the news’ll get ‘better’ as we go then.”

“There’s an old war spirit egging things on.”

Aster sighed gustily, pinching the bridge of his muzzle. “Worst news indeed. Any idea who?”

“Nope, no clue, but Janna the Unhelpful has a new mission in life, as per my direct orders, huzzah. So far all we’ve got is ‘war spirit’, ‘old’, and ‘stupid haircut’, according to her. I find myself inclined to agree.” He smiled, with too many teeth. “Anyways, the bad news. There’s some new guy - mortal - yelling about a ‘return to the old ways’ - apparently Egypt is too Greek now or something? Called the ‘Lion of the South’, showing all the creativity and one-of-a-kind-ness of these types of morons.”

“Lovely,” Aster drawled.

“Calls himself a prophet too. You know how _that’ll_ go over in the region.” Jack sighed. “I’m supposed to call back in a couple days to see what they’ve dug up. Hopefully we’ll have the spirit ID’d soon enough. Then we can move, once we know what we’re dealing with. In the meantime… Sandy? You’re going to be very busy.”

Sandy nodded, looking grim. He looked over to the side, and flashed a few obscure symbols. They were answered by glitters of purple light; nothing anyone could see when they looked directly at it, but peripheral vision worked well enough. Hypnos was one of the best at stealth that WINTER had, and for good reason, since he knew how to walk the line between the Dreaming and the Waking worlds like an expert acrobat on a tightrope.

“So.” Jack clapped his hands. “That’s about it in a nutshell. The prophet’s been egging on the usual hotheads in the region, the ones who are a little too fond of guns and not so much fans of thinking. Or reality. Or, sadly, women and children. At least those that don’t _belong_ to them, if you catch my drift.”

Was that ice, spreading from Jack’s feet? Yes, yes it was. Aster moved his feet off the table, thumping down in his chair in the process, and nodded. “Seen it before. Get rid of the war spirit quick enough, should be able to defuse the situation. And the humans’ll come down like Thor’s hammer on the mortal side of things. Last time was some nutter Babylonian god; started up a war that lasted, oh… seven days, I think it was? Between Israel and Lebanon, as I recall. The nutter went and got himself killed, the dunderhead, by poking his nose into Jerusalem at the wrong time.”

“Is that where…?” Jack shook his head, and waved it off. “Never mind. There’s nothing more I can add to the situation, right now.”

“So, we wait for news?” North said, looking a bit deflated. Well, the old bandit did like a good fight.

Jack nodded. “We do. I think you’ll need to be extra careful with the children there this Christmas. You can always plan for that in the interim?”

North visibly brightened at the idea. Aster hid a grin; Jack knew how to play North like a fiddle, he did. Probably Phil’s fault as well; the two Agents seemed to be good friends. Still, it was very amusing. Made Aster a tad proud, too; sign of a good mate, it was.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Tuesday, 25 June 2013 -- Warren, later afternoon**

“Bunny!” Jack looked around, and trudged over to the hunched over, gray-furred shape. “Bunny, I need you!”

It took Aster a few moments to pull his head, and arms, out of the Stone Sentinel he was waist deep inside, fixing… whatever that was he was holding in his hand, which looked like a cross between a spatula and a ray gun. The Pooka squinted at him. “Wot?”

He blinked several times. “Did you know your accent gets thicker when you’re distracted? It’s awesome, quote Shakespeare at me.”

“Come not within the measure of my wrath,” Bunny drawled, glaring mildly at Jack. Probably for the request in the first place.

But hey, at least it was an actual quote!

“Doesn’t count if you switch to Oxford.” He dropped down beside his mate, and sighed. “Why? Why do they do this to me? Did I do something horrible in a past life?” He pouted at the papers held in one hand.

“Who is doing what to where? And why are you glaring at those papers like they’ve violated you?” Aster set down the spatula-ray-gun-thing and settled down next to him, wiping his paws on a nearby damp towel to clean them of grease.

“Brenda, Vahan, and Loki.” He raised one eyebrow in what hopefully was an eloquently speaking look.

Aster pinched the bridge of his muzzle. “What’d they do now?”

Jack glared at the papers again. “Got married.” He paused, and added, “Well, Brenda and Vahan got married. Loki was just… there. On the side.”

The Pooka blinked at him several times. “Wot?”

Jack blinked several times. “Okay, that accent can knock me out of a funk, you need to talk Australian more. You’d get laid twice as much as you do now.” Jack grinned and leaned sideways, before sighing heavily and waving the papers in his hand at his companion. “Brend and Vahan got married. The report… well, it reads like something you’d find in Penthouse, so. But the license, a copy, is included.”

“They… wrote about having a naughty? That’s new.”

“Having a naughty,” Jack repeated, and sighed, this time happily. “ _So_ laid tonight. So very, very…” He paused and cleared his throat. “Ah, no. They wrote about their wedding. Starts off ‘I recently had an experience I just had to tell you about’ and then gets enthusiastic about clothes, vows, guests, food…”

Aster snatched the report out of Jack’s hand and skimmed the first couple pages. “... it reads like someone trying to talk the leg off an iron pot, only on paper. How’d they _do_ that?”

“I… did not get that reference, for the record.”

“Y’know how people can jibber on and you can’t get a word in edgewise?” Jack nodded. “That.”

“That sounds so much better than ‘conversation hog’. And I think Loki wrote that, so you’d have to ask him.” Jack sighed, and snuggled up. “So yeah. They’re getting married. We can’t separate them now.”

“No shoving them in a swag and tossing them in the ocean on opposite sides of the planet?” Aster was obviously trying not to smirk at Jack. He was dropping slang on _purpose_ , wasn’t he?

Well, he _had_ asked for it…

“Nope. Against regulations. Whatever a swag is, that’d have to be a private thing between consenting adults. Married couples, unless otherwise requested, remain in a team together. Something about fighting harder for the person you care for.”

Aster smiled at him. “Well. I know something ‘bout that, Jackie.”

“ _Obviously_ , but this means we’re never going to break them up!” He threw the papers down, and wished, briefly, that he had the power of setting things on fire with his mind, instead of freezing them. “It’s always going to be the Brenda-and-Vahan show!”

“Well. You can always start giving them missions instead of letting whoever-it-is do it. That way you can at least channel the idiocy.”

“They’re Odin’s favorites. Are you suggesting I steal away _Odin’s_ favorites?” He glared up at Aster. “I thought you loved me.”

Bunny quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re Odin’s favorite, I’m pretty sure.”

“No, I’m his grandson, sort of. Family. They’re not related and he adores them.”

“Same difference.” He shrugged. “Just a thought.”

“Yeah, but if they were my agents, they’d be _here_ all the time. Unless and until I’m reassigned, I’m on you.”

Aster snorted and muttered something that _sounded_ like “Rather you stay” and went back to fiddling with the Sentinel’s innards. Jack grinned sappily for a moment, before a thought crossed his mind and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Uh. So, you really want me to stay?”

Aster’s ears flicked downward for a moment in embarrassment. Huh. So he wasn’t supposed to have heard that. Awesome.

“... yes,” came the reply, which echoed slightly since his head was inside the Sentinel’s casing.

“I mean, not just living here, because, duh. I mean, like, your Guard, permanent-like. Because I know you didn’t like the Guard thing, but we’re together now and screaming arguments with your boyfriend over security doesn’t really go with figuring out what’s for dinner, I figured?” He plucked at the cuffs of his trousers.

Bunny was silent for several minutes. Jack started fidgeting worse, fraying a seam - and wouldn’t _that_ go over well when Aster noticed - before he replied, “It is what it is. ‘Sides, who’d take over? _Kern_? I’d rather not, thanks.”

“Okay, if Kern wasn’t assigned to your protection, would you stop being all nasty about him? Sheesh, they’re making noises about switching him over to archives, he’s having trouble seeing out of one eye, for Polaris’ sake.”

“No! I mean, no. I’d rather stick with the berk I know than get another dill I don’t,” Aster said, pulling his head out of the Sentinel. “I’d really rather you stayed on as Guard _and_ as my mate. What’s wrong with both?”

“Kern’s going to retire by the end of the century, just you watch. And I don’t have a problem with both. I don’t. Doesn’t mean the others might not decide I’d do better somewhere else. I’m a Regent, yeah, but only one of four.”

“Thought there was no one else strong enough to watch me.” And wasn’t _that_ said with a touch of sourness to it. Still must be sore over needing a Guard in the first place, not that Jack could really blame him.

“Numbers could make up for strength,” he murmured, twisting so he could run his fingers through Aster’s ruff. “And anyways, if they really, really needed four active, full-time Regents…”

Bunny sighed heavily, and pulled out of the Sentinel again, slapping the panel shut and motioning for the Sentinel to move on. Cleaning his paws off again with the rag, he turned fully to Jack and gazed at him consideringly. “Wot’s this really ‘bout?”

Jack looked away, face icing over. “Um. Well…. Nothing. Nothing at all, really.”

Aster cuffed him upside the back of the head - gently, for once - and admonished, “Out with it, you boofhead.”

“Love you too, jerk.” Jack rubbed the back of his head. “Do you want to get married?”

The Pooka froze and stared at him, and only then did he realize he’d just up and said it. Out loud. Oops.

“Not _now_ ,” he protested. “Or necessarily to me, because hoo-boy you probably want kids, and I’m kind of… not female, and probably sterile, and _WINTER_ , and anyways it’s more of a thought experiment, ‘does Bunny want to get married’ or at least be asked or doing the asking and- I think I should shut up now.”

Aster was still staring at him. He started to fidget with his pants seam again, but his companion’s paw shot out and caught his hand. “Don’t do that. I can see I’ll have to fix it later already as it is. Again.”

“Sorry.”

“As for your question…” He paused, and Jack watched him apprehensively. “Yes. I would. Eventually.”

“Oh.” Right. Yeah. Jack nodded and looked away. “To who?”

Aster smacked him upside the head again. “Wot, you think you’re not a candidate? Idiot.”

“You, children, want. Me, male, no preggers.” Jack spread his hands. “And last I checked you’re male too, so. Biology says…”

He grunted. “Right. ‘Spose you know I’m a shapeshifter, right?”

“ _Shape_ -shifter,” Jack said. “No gender-bending… right?”

“Give me six hours, and I can have fully functional lady-parts. With or without my donger still available,” Aster said, smirking at him confidently.

Jack… may or may not have dropped his jaw. He was pretty sure it might have _thunked_ against the ground. “Wait, what? Really? I. Uh. Did not know that.” He looked down at his mate’s groin. “Can I see?”

“It’d take six hours, like I said.”

“Is that a ‘be patient’ or a ‘no’, it’s hard to tell. You should get signs, maybe.” Jack grinned. “Hold them up next to your head in translation.”

The Pooka snorted. “It’s a ‘not today, mate, because I’d be in _heat_.’ Don’t think you're ready for ankle-biters just yet.”

“... Oh. I’m guessing super-fertility goes with being…” Jack gestured at Aster. “You. Um. Wow. Okay, still, leaving aside the fact that I might be sterile, most winter spirits are, or we’d be knee deep in the bastards. I am not using that word as slang.”

Bunny cocked his head. “Kern never told you fertility spirits can change that in others?”

“He was probably afraid of getting knocked up.” Jack laughed, then. “Oh, wow. Okay. This is not what I was expecting, but-” He made a face when something in his pocket buzzed. “Dropping it at the bottom of a _well…_ ”

He pulled out his earpiece, and put it on. “ _What_?”

After a minute, he pulled the earpiece off. “We should go hijack North’s Aurora control thingy. Preliminary report on the Egypt situation.”

Aster quirked an eyebrow. “Alright then.” Jack stood to go, but a paw on his shoulder stopped him; he glanced back to find Bunny smiling at him gently. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a great father.”

“And you’d make a wonderful _mum_ , Fluffy.”

“Oi!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaysurin's Commentary: "For everyone in a relationship - asking if someone wants to be asked is always a nice step when you're living together but not already been to the altar. That said, things are picking up in Egypt, the spirit with the bad haircut will probably honk the Wind off at some point, and Quetza and Tooth will continue to develope a relationship."  
>  **Addendum: "In absolutely no world will Phil and North get together. I promise."**
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "New bad guy. Dun dun duuuuuuuuuun! Also, lots of talk about sex, but no sex. How strange...."


	26. Chapter 26

**Tuesday, 25 June 2013 -- Workshop, North Pole, morning**

Even one of North’s meeting rooms was a bit crowded with everyone - Guardians, WINTER Agents, and a few interested Yeti that weren’t agents but were given the okay by Phil - in it. The table could have sat a full dozen people; eighteen if no one cared about elbow room, and there were twice that many either seated at the table, or leaning up against the nearest wall.

Jack hopped up onto the table next to Aster. By dint of their rank, they got actual chairs. However, someone had given Jack the horsehair one, which was itchy at best and made his skin crawl when he thought about where it’d come from.

His lover and beloved was an overgrown, alien rabbit. He could handle leather, both cow and deer, and he didn’t really have a problem with most meat so long as no one expected him to eat it. But - there were limits, and he didn’t like horsehair.

Jack hunched over like a gargoyle, and looked over at Aster. “Feeling crowded?” he asked. “Because I think we need to open some windows here.”

“And shove a few blokes out, yes,” Aster grunted, shifting his chair minutely towards Jack, and away from the … thing, sitting next to him. “Whether or not they can fly.”

“We’re only on the second floor,” Jack said. He waved at the individual seated beside Aster. “Hey, Tina.”

Someone cleared their throat at the front of the room. Oh, _Edwin_. This was going to be just great. Just… who was he kidding? This was going to go south, fast.

“Right then. Regent Frostbite directed one of my agents-”

Jack coughed. “Janna the Unhelpful.”

Edwin shot him a look and continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “-to look into the situation over in Egypt. She did so, and found that there is a war spirit forcing things into conflict. In addition, the weather remains unstable in that region. Currently, there is a drought, which is only marginally better than the weather that had shown previously.”

“You’re welcome,” Jack deadpanned. Aster snickered beside him.

Edwin waved him off. “At this time, we have not been able to identify the war spirit in question, as there seem to be a hoard of lesser spirits with him at all times. It is interesting to note, however, that the mortal calling himself ‘Lion King’ is kept overshadowed at nearly all times of day and night.”

Jack suppressed a fit of giggles at Edwin’s name for the ‘prophet.’ One of the other, younger, and more foolish agents, attempted to speak up and correct him, but a quick, quelling glance from Edwin snuffed that effort almost instantly.

The Intelligence agent cleared his throat. “Right. So. Here,” he said, pausing to flick a large piece of paper up in the air, following it with several knives that tacked it to the wall, which displayed a map of the region. “I’ve illustrated where confirmed War spirit-affiliated attacks have occurred, in red. Suspected incursions are denoted in orange. You’ll see, from the pattern, that they seem to be consolidating power in this region here.” He flicked another knife at the map; it landed squarely in the middle of the region Jack had been fighting the storm in. “Interesting, that. Did you notice anything of particular note while you were there, Regent?”

“Sand, sand, sand… old temple,” Jack said, and snapped his fingers. He paused, and added, “Maybe a temple. Homes used to be overly fancy in those days. And with carvings everywhere.”

Edwin hummed and studied the map. “Anything noteworthy?”

“Things were kind of going too fast for me to notice,” Jack said. “Lions, maybe? Carvings or the real deal, I don’t know, I just remember going ‘huh, lions’ and then flying back up into the clouds.”

Edwin made more ‘thinking noises’, as Jack liked to call them, and stared at the map some more. “Ah. I see. That would make sense. It’s possible, but… more data is needed.”

“Edwin! You can’t just leave it there! Theory in the light of day, c’mon!” He leaned forward, bracing himself upright with one hand. “Give up the goods, dude.”

“Dude?” Aster asked.

“Sounded right in my head.”

“Yeah. No.”

Edwin quirked an eyebrow at Jack. Score, his mannerisms were spreading! “Dude? I don’t surf.” He cleared his throat. “Ahem. Yes. Right. So. That’s very near Meroë.”

And then stopped speaking, as if that made all the sense in the world. Jack groaned. However, it seemed to make complete sense to Aster.

“So you’re suggesting, what, one of the Meroitic gods is back? I thought they’d all been killed off from lack of belief yonks back.”

Jack stared at Aster, flabbergasted. “That made _sense_ to you?”

The Pooka looked at him quizzically. “Wot?”

Jack picked up his staff, and poked at Aster with the blunt end. “Oy, ‘ow abou’ ye gi’ us as ‘aven’ li’ t’rough… Okay, that’s way too hard now. You lived through the Meroitic whatever. The rest of us didn’t. Give up the goods.”

“Firstly, you’re a terrible Aussie. Never do that again. My ears are bleeding.”

“Actually, that was the ‘English’ accent I grew up with, starting in Whitechapel. Only I can’t do it anymore.”

“Secondly, don’t do that ever again either.” Aster rolled his eyes. “Thirdly, Meroitic. Some of their gods merged with the old Egyptian pantheon, others didn’t. Those would include the one he’s suggesting, which makes no sense. I saw that one die myself. Bastard, he was.”

Okay, now Aster was just being obtuse on purpose. Though the confused looks that were bouncing back and forth between him and the Pooka were amusing. It was almost like a tennis match of the weird and bizarre.

“Bunny, love, do you enjoy sex?” Jack grinned, and poked him with the staff again. “Because you won’t get any if you don’t start explaining. With real words, this time.”

His ears went flat against the back of his skull and he coughed. “Right. None of that now. Edwin’s thinking Apedemak - but, _as I said_ , I watched him die. Can’t be him.”

Jack sat back on his heels. “Well, what about… someone taking over the role,” he suggested. “Like… Oh, like what’s his name did to Susuano or whatever his name was. Japanese guy, god of storms? Honked off his sister the sun so she chopped him into fish food?”

Someone cleared their throat off to the side. “Already here. And it’s Susanoo.”

“Yeah, you weren’t chopped into fish food,” Jack said, turning to the Japanese spirit whose hair was perpetually wet and windblown. “But you weren’t always Susanoo. Somebody needed to do the job, though, so… Pow, you got tapped and that was that.”

The spirit in question nodded. “Valid point.”

“So maybe that’s what it is,” he said, turning to Aster. “I mean, Apedemak died - fish food? - but then someone figured out who he was and what he was, and got in on the hype, and then they needed a new Apedemak and some poor sucker got the call.”

Edwin hummed, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Either way. Resurrected or replaced, he’s a likely candidate, as all the other regional war gods are accounted for, in one piece or another. Frostbite, would you do the honors of scouting the region? I’ll send the other agents north and south of you, to investigate the attacks and rescue the non-native, imported spirits, which they seem to be targeting.”

“You’re not going alone,” Aster said, grabbing onto Jack’s wrist. “I’m going with you.”

“That’s not-”

“You don’t know Apedemak. I do. I’m going.”

Jack looked down at Aster’s hand, tight grip and all, and then nodded. “Alright. Just don’t complain to me about sand in your fur.”

“I’ll get my desert gear.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Wednesday, 26 June 2013 -- Somewhere near Meroë, Sudan, early evening**

“Aster, you’re gonna have to give up the secret one of these days.” Jack tossed a handful of sand at his lover’s arm, only for the sand to hit some kind of force field and slide off. It was totally awesome.

The Pooka sighed from beneath the large, brown-yellow scarf he had loosely wrapped around his head and upper torso, whose ends hung nearly to the ground. It flowed and moved with him like a second skin, much like the strange high-tech field he’d produced as ‘desert gear’. “Stop that, Frostbite. Just because it does no harm to the suit, doesn’t mean it doesn’t annoy me.” He tapped a few times on the high-tech bracer he was wearing, and frowned. “Damn. It’s still calibrating.”

“Meaning what?” Jack tried to stroke Aster’s bicep, because why not? Only the force field kept him from actually touching the Pooka. He settled for pouting instead.

“Last time I used this was during the Bølling oscillation. It’s not adjusted yet.”

“Recalculating,” Jack muttered, in the annoying ‘GPS directions lady’ voice Jamie had introduced him to.

Aster flicked his ear, without the field getting in the way. So he could touch things, but Jack couldn’t touch him.

Not _fair_.

“So, where do we go first to make you chill with the paranoia?” Jack looked around the sand and scrub and _Hello there Wind thank you for looming_ that was all the eye could see. Not for the first time, he gave thanks that he wasn’t sensitive to the heat the way other snow spirits were. He didn’t have to wear anything traditional - seemed counterintuitive to him, piling on the layers to keep cool - and in fact wasn’t going to get heat stroke. Unless he stayed out for several weeks, but that was highly unlikely.

He hoped.

Some more grumbling and tapping sounds later, Aster grunted, “That way. ‘Bout… two kilometers. Or does that say twenty?” Some unintelligible muttering. “I need to adjust the language filters again.”

“What, having trouble translating? Let’s just walk until we find something.”

Aster muttered something that, for all that it sounded dark and foreboding, was still musical and pretty. “Fine. Lead the way, Frostbite.”

Jack nodded, and started walking. The sand was only a little harder to walk across than freshly fallen snow, but that little bit made a big difference. After several minutes - possibly several seconds - he sighed and looked over at Aster. “Hey, Cottontail.”

More muttering as he fiddled with his wrist-computer-thingy. “Wot?”

“What’s my name sound like, in Pookan?”

Aster looked up and grinned at him, and opened his mouth. Oh, that was kind of… sexy, and very pretty. He could listen to that for _quite_ a while….

“So….” He tried repeating the sound, managing to mangle it all out of resemblance to, say, what Aster had said.

Who promptly laughed. “You… you said…!”

“What, ‘do me’?”

Aster snickered. “Closest you came was ‘I have big donger’. At least, that’s the best translation I could manage. And you sounded like a mountain-dweller.”

Figured his Whitechapel accent would come back at the weirdest times. “Well, I do have a big donger. Let’s try that again.”

They passed the time walking with Aster repeating things in Pookan and Jack trying to mimic him. It went… poorly, but at least his boyfriend was entertained. He hadn’t heard him laugh this much in ages.

Jack privately resolved to work on that. Sure, serious situation needed serious mindset, but Aster was drop dead gorgeous when he laughed, and always looked so surprised, too. Like he hadn’t expected to find humor in his life again, even though Jack _was_ the Guardian of Fun. Or Joy. Or Laughing Fits, it was sometimes hard to decide.

They were all closely related anyway. Fun was just easier to say, most of the time.

They crested a huge dune after some indeterminate amount of time - which Aster promptly corrected him had been twenty-two minutes, the bastard - and found… nothing. Great.

“I’m feeling cheated,” Jack decided. “We’re in Egypt, looking for bad guys. And not a single camel. Think we can get a refund?”

“Sudan.”

“Whatever. My point still stands. This sucks.”

“You’d know.”

“Hey! That’s my line!”

Aster smirked at him.

Jack flipped him off, but grinned while he did it. “So, want to try riding the Wind?”

Death Glare. Right. No flying.

“But we’d go so much faster,” Jack whined. “Get this over and done with sooner. Go back to the Warren. Get the sand out of my hair and your fur.”

Aster eyed him sideways for a few moments, and then sighed, tapping his foot on the ground. A hole opened up and…

“What the hell is _that_?”

“Gravi-Skiff.”

“You mean we could have been _riding_ this whole time?”

“It messes with my inner ear.”

“So you get unbalanced and we end up smashing into something?” Jack guessed. He poked at the skiff-thing, and crouched down to try and get a look underneath. “Like a hover boat, or whatever they’re called?”

“Antigravity-powered, yes. It’s easy to use, so you have the controls. And no, it can’t go faster than a light run.”

Jack patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. That’s what you think.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“Jaaack!” Aster shouted, hanging onto the arms of his seat like his life depended on it.

“Whaaaaaaat?” Jack howled back, before laughing madly. This was the best! Better than roller coasters! Or bumper cars! Flying with the wind was a little better, but that was a hard choice. Since with _this_ thing, he had Aster with him, which kind of made up for only going five feet off the ground on the big jumps.

“What did you do-” Aster grunted, interrupting his shout, and covered his mouth, looking a tad green around the edges.

“Oh, come on! You loved the sledding when we were fighting Pitch that time!” Jack looked over, paying absolutely no attention to the lack of road and equal lack of obstacles, and pressed his hand to Aster’s chest. “Calm down, Fluffy!”

Aster panted. “Slow down!” He grabbed Jack by the scruff of the neck and pulled him close. “For me?” And then licked Jack’s nose.

“Yeah, yeah… Wind, you heard the rabbit, less speed.” He blinked sparkles from his eyes - purely psychological, no magic involved - and pouted a little as they eased down to something close to Aster’s usual running pace.

The Pooka sighed behind him, and then actually unbuckled and stood up, stepping forward to press a paw lightly to the small of Jack’s back as he came to stand next to him.

Okay. That was nice. Maybe it wasn’t so bad he’d slowed down, after all.

“What is it with you and high speeds?” he asked, twisting to look up at his mate.

He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. “I like speed just fine. Just not in some contraption. You drive like North did when he was _younger_.”

“Yeah, except I’ve got better control and reflexes,” Jack pointed out. “I haven’t flown into anything in years. Decades even. And that was mostly the Wind being cranky with me.” The Wind squawked at him. “Fine, fine! So I was also distracted by Aster’s ass! Sue me!”

Aster grinned at him smugly. “Nice to know I can have that effect on you.”

“I got broken ribs out of that.”

“Not my fault you couldn’t keep your mind off sex.”

“Wasn’t sex,” he admitted. “Was the sign one of the Kitsune put on your tail.”

There was a long silence. “What, pray tell, did it say?”

“It was in cipher,” Jack assured him. “And - remember when I showed up and yanked something off you and you were all cranky and I said it was a burr?”

“I… remember that. Drongo.”

“Yeah. No worries, no one saw it, I got it before anyone could.”

“... which kitsune was it again?”

“Dunno which one. They’re both brats.”

They crested another dune. Yup. Still nothing.

“Kern’s influence, no doubt. Or yours.” Aster hummed. “I think I’ll blame you; be fun to punish you later.”

Jack smiled, nodded, and didn’t mention that the cipher had been one he’d created. Or what the sign had said. “I’m sure it will.”

“What’s that?” Aster said abruptly, and pointed.

“A change of subject.” Jack turned the skiff towards the… whatever it was. They dropped down into a valley between dunes, and he managed to get the skiff to stop. “How do we turn it off? We’ll have to approach on foot.”

Aster tapped a button Jack hadn’t realized existed and the skiff powered down immediately, settling gently in the sands. He tapped another, and a light camouflage-y energy field popped up around it.

“Cool.”

Aster grinned smugly. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Once Jack realized that there were no other spirits about - Aster’s wrist-computer-thingy had confirmed this, somehow - they’d crept up on the mortals pretty openly, though they hid behind the edge of a dune, just in case. You never knew when you’d run into a young adult in a crowd that still believed enough to see you.

There was a large crowd outside some derelict building complex that looked at least a century old, and there was a quaint little oasis-like thing off to the side, complete with a well and mudbrick homes. A man - Jack admitted, at least to himself, a very, very attractive one - was speaking to the crowd.

In… Arabic?

Which he didn’t speak. Of course.

Aster growled under his breath. “Usual nonsense,” he muttered, after a few minutes of listening. Of course _he_ spoke Arabic. “Taking back what’s rightfully theirs, driving out the invaders, returning to the true gods… load of nonsense.”

“Anything useful?” Jack inquired, scanning the horizon. Aster’s device might be awesome, but it was still supposedly ‘calibrating’. Better safe than sorry, he always said.

Okay, that was a lie. Odin said that. He sometimes listened.

Sometimes.

“This place used to be a temple.” Aster’s ears twitched in a nervous tick. “He’s encouraging them to set up camp here, in the shelter of Apedemak. His accent is worse than yours.”

“His accent is - why does that even matter? - and he actually said the name?”

“Because his Arabic is bad, but he’s pronouncing the name right. _Exactly_ right, the way they did back then.” Aster turned to look at Jack, because apparently that was worth eye contact.

“That’s not good, right? It isn’t, is it? Right?”

“Can’t say it is. Even so-called ‘experts’ in ancient languages can’t pronounce anything correctly. Church Latin’s even changed quite a bit since Rome was sacking everything and sundry. He shouldn’t know how to _make_ some of those sounds, they’re not used - _anywhere_ \- today.”

Jack frowned, and went to reply.

The ground shook.

“What?”

“Wot?”

“I asked you first!”

“Get down!”

They ducked behind the dune as - something - happened over by the mortals. When no one cried out - well, other than in surprise, not pain - they cautiously peeked over the edge.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Aster was growling under his breath.

“Right. Stupid haircut,” Jack muttered, eyes wide. The new guy was a spirit, but it seemed the mortals could _see_ him. He was tall - at least as tall as Aster - and from the neck down looked like a well-muscled human - _well_ -muscled, like someone who’d almost put the Terminator to shame at his prime - with bronze skin, a few pale scars on his arms and shoulders, and a pure-white… his brain was insisting kilt, though he figured there was a proper name for it.

From the neck up, however… Lion head.

Okay, not exactly a lion head; the muzzle was, like Aster’s, abbreviated for speech, and the guy’s head was smaller than an actual lion’s, but still. Resemblance was uncanny.

“Is that…?”

Aster’s growling deepened. “Yes. And no, it’s not a new guy.” He sniffed. “Smells the same.”

Jack took a deep breath, but the air smelled different now. He frowned. Before the lion-headed guy had shown up, he’d gotten used to the scent of baked sand, baked dust, and baked, sort-of-alive plants. Now… Blood. Cat-musk. A hint of dung, or maybe spilled intestines.

His nose tickled. Crap.

“Aster.”

“What? I’m trying to listen.”

“I’m… allergic to cats.”

And then he sneezed.

The lion-headed spirit froze momentarily, but as if his acknowledging the sound was a clue-by-four, the mortals went quiet too. They all began looking around, as though they knew they’d heard _something_ , but weren’t sure what, or where.

The lion-headed spirit didn’t have the same problem. He turned, looking directly at Aster and Jack’s hiding place.

“Time to go?” Jack asked, already stepping away.

“Time to go,” Aster affirmed, turning to run with him.

They ran, but not far, or fast. Damn that sand to hell.

“Bunnymund.”

They came up short as the lion-headed god appeared before them in a whirl of sand and wind.

Aster sighed and shifted such that he was slightly in front of Jack. “Apedemak.”

“I see you remember me.”

“I see you’re not dead.”

“No thanks to you.” Apedemak growled darkly. “This is a surprise. I’d expected I’d have to hunt you down.”

Jack lifted his staff, considering the situation. As long as the other two were talking, they weren’t paying attention to him. And he rather doubted Apedemak knew how to handle the cold.

“That eager for another beating?” Aster snarked, shifting slowly into a stance Jack recognized from their sparring. “I’m kind of busy right now, so-”

Uh oh.

He gathered his strength, and reached out to the Wind. The personification sent assurance and confidence through their link, and he nodded.

“And who, pray tell, is this with you?” Apedemak asked, lightly cracking his knuckles. “Scrawny, pale slip of a thing that it is.”

“Who, me?” Jack stepped forward around Aster, twirling his staff.

He sniffed and his eyes widened minutely. “Don’t tell me you’ve had sex with it? I’d thought better of you.”

“Y’know, just for that, I’m not going to be nice. You’re Apedemak, he of the stupid haircut and astonishingly bad manners. I’m Jack Frost, you probably haven’t heard of me.” He summoned a snowball in one hand, and grinned. Too many teeth showed for it to be a _nice_ expression. “Maybe you should do some research.”

He threw the snowball, and then gave a mental yank on the ambient temperature.

It promptly dropped. Rather quickly too. A patch of sand froze nearby.

Huh. Quicksand. Good to know. Odd location for that though.

Apedemak snorted and slowly wiped the snow from his face. “A winter spirit. How… _quaint_. You really have sunk to a new low, Bunnymund.”

One moment, Jack had been maneuvering to fire another ranged attack. The next, he was ass-deep in the sand dune a hundred yards away from where he’d been a moment ago.

And his head was ringing. He shifted. Ow. Okay, and his ribs might be cracked.

_What the hell…?_

Aster roared and attacked. _Whoa._

Apparently, he’d gotten faster since they’d last sparred, or maybe it was because he was obviously angry - Jack didn’t really care - all that mattered to him were two things.

One, Aster was trading blows with Apedemak with amazing speed.

Two, Jack was half-hard just watching it.

_Not the time. Stupid hormones._

The two animalistic spirits whirled and danced amongst the dunes, throwing and dodging blows almost faster than Jack could keep up. When his head finally stopped ringing, Jack realized that Apedemak was standing close to the still-frosty quicksand. Jack reached out with his magic, ignoring the pain in his chest, and yanked on the moisture. Hard.

It sprayed up out of the ground in little spears of ice and caught the lion-god off-guard, lacerating his back. He roared and stumbled; Jack fell backwards, exhausted from the effort - obviously, he needed to rest more from that storm battle - and was surprised to find that he was suddenly being carried by his mate.

“Aster? What…?”

“You’re okay, Jackie. I’ve got ya. We’re getting out of here while he’s distracted.”

“‘Kay.”

They made it to the skiff in short order and took off. This time, Aster didn’t complain about the high speeds.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Wednesday, 26 June 2013 -- Fortress, northern Canada, morning**

“How’d he kick my butt so fast?” Jack scowled when Ingrid gave his bandages a quick tug. “That? That was not nice. Don’t.”

Aster’s grip on his hand tightened for a moment, drawing Jack’s attention back to him. “I’m not entirely sure. You’re probably still magically exhausted from the storm.”

“That’s what I thought. Still. Rude, smacking a guy across a football field.”

Aster did his best to smile, and squeezed his hand again. “Is that what it is? I figured it was a show for the mortals that were watching.”

Jack mock-glared. “Shut up. Could they see us?”

“They could see something.” Aster grimaced. “Makes me wish we’d put in a better showing. Him winning will just strengthen him.”

“Nothing for it,” Jack sighed. Ingrid tugged again. “Ow! Stop that! As I was saying… we weren’t prepared for a confrontation. And I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. We should’ve taken to our heels when I confirmed it was him, not stuck about upwind for him to smell us.”

“I sneezed-”

“Could’ve happened to anyone. If we hadn’t been upwind, he wouldn’t have known exactly where we were.”

“‘Spose.” Jack grunted as Ingrid tied off the last bandage. “So, now what?”

“I’m not sure,” Aster admitted. He stroked Jack’s hair, and frowned in thought. “Whatever we do, we’ll have to do it soon. Those mortals, they believe in the arsehole. They believe he’s a god. That’s more of a boost than even _we_ get from the children.”

“Troubling, that is,” Edwin said from behind Jack.

“Ack!” Jack exclaimed, jumping in place and tweaking his ribs. “Ow.”

“My apologies.” Edwin looked between the two of them. “Odin has called a war council. Can you make it?”

“War council?” Jack asked, even as he hopped gingerly off the hospital bed. He shot a grin at Aster when he caught Jack as he stumbled.

“Our Southern outpost was attacked,” Edwin said, turning to the door. “And destroyed.”

Jack hissed. “Casualties?”

Edwin paused, and shook his head in the negative. “No one was…” He took a deep breath, and looked back over his shoulder. “As I said. Odin has called a war council.”

It finally clicked. “Wait. _War_? As in… oh.”

“What are you nattering on about, Jackie?”

“Fuck. I don’t _want_ to be a General again!”

“The uniform is in your office,” Edwin said dryly. “You might want to get changed. Bunnymund, if you would come with me?”

“Will someone explain what’s going on?” Aster growled.

Edwin turned around. “Certainly. We are at war.”

“Wot?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "War! What is it good for? Absolutely - oh wait, stopping tyrants. That's a pretty good reason..."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Quick! Everyone look up Apedemak and see how little information I have to go on!" *is so winging it* XD


	27. Chapter 27

**Wednesday, 26 June 2013 -- Fortress, northern Canada, midday**

Aster looked around the room, made more than a little uneasy by the atmosphere. It’d been surprisingly easy, all told, to forget that the WINTER Agents were warriors, spirits of violence if not actually of war. Even the most timid of snow maidens, that he could see, had several knives at their belts. One had a small hand crossbow, cocked and ready.

Odin sat at the front of the room, flanked by Thor and Loki, all three of them looking… thunderous. While there was no lightning yet, rumbles warned of the fury to come.

It reminded him of no few wars he’d been unlucky enough to participate in, going all the way back to the end of the Golden Age.

And it made him long for his armor and weapons. Nothing like being unarmed amongst soldiers to make a bloke nervy.

“Hey Bunnymund. Thought you’d be missing this.”

Oh great. _Kern_. “Do I wanta know how you got these?”

Nevertheless, Aster accepted the swag, and grunted a little at the weight. Damn thing was near a full hundred pounds. Easier to carry when it was on properly, instead of in his arms.

“Probably not. Is it all there?”

He set the bag down on the floor, and began pulling out the various pieces. Chest plate, back plate, pauldrons… El Ahrairah, was that _rust_?

No, no. Just paint.

How’d he gotten paint on this stuff? Hadn’t it been buried in a back closet, never to be seen again?

He shook the padded vest out, once, and then pulled it on. Damn thing was a touch tight about the ribs. He’d put on muscle, it seemed. Good. He’d been a scrawny little stick of a scholar back when he’d gotten this stuff. Weyland could probably let it out without compromising the integrity. He’d ask later.

“It’s all here.”

“And this bag,” Kern said, hefting another large sack. “Is all the weapons you asked for.”

“I… didn’t ask for anything.” Aster paused, halfway through switching his usual bracers out for something a little stronger and a lot more lethal.

“Jack knew what you’d want,” he said easily, with a shrug. “Though how he knew about the armor, I don’t know. It certainly wasn’t documented anywhere in our records.”

“Jack did, did he?” Aster flicked an ear, and frowned. Jack must have been ‘exploring’.

Right. Well, that wasn’t getting the damn armor on.

“Looks like you’ll need a hand with the armor. Should I get someone else, or…?” Kern asked, fidgeting slightly.

Well, Jack _had_ told him to be nice.

“... If you can lift that back plate up,” Aster grumbled.

Kern nodded and did as he was told without another word. The deer was thorough, Aster’d give him that. Still didn’t see what Jack saw in the bloke, but… what the hell? He’d give him a shot. A very, very small one.

It was easier to pull the old armor on with Kern’s help, and in short order he was fully ‘dressed’ in what felt like the Pookan version of a lobster shell. With the weaponry, he even had ‘claws’.

“Looks good, Bunnymund. Want me to take it by Weyland later for a polish and cleaning?” Kern asked politely after Aster’d finished flexing and stretching as he made sure it still fit proper. “Do you think it needs any adjustments?”

Only in the chest and shoulders. “None that can’t keep,” he decided. A little tight, not so much to constrict his breathing, just enough to make the armor noticeable. “It’ll do, for now.” He looked around, and then, lacking anyone else to ask, turned to Kern. “Right. What’s this southern outpost about?”

Kern nodded to a nearby couch. When had that shown up? He settled on the seat and quirked an eyebrow at Kern to continue. The action caused the deer to smirk a little.

Oh, right. Jack’s mannerism. He sighed and waved the deer off.

“Right. So. The Fortress does fly around the world and act as the main hub of activity, but we do have to be pretty much everywhere at once. There are several static outposts in the colder mountains around the world. The Southern Outpost is - was - in the Andes, down near the southern tip of South America. It’s… well, there’s a crater, now. No sign of the staff either.”

Aster didn’t bother asking if Kern was sure. Of course he was sure. This sort of thing had happened all the time in… well, in nearly every war Aster had been a part of, really. “How?” he asked instead. “And have the mortals noticed the new crater?”

“Seems so, yes. As for how… we don’t know how yet, but it looks like the place just… blew. Like a volcano, that isn’t actually there, nor is there evidence of such. The scouts did find some odd symbols in a circle nearby though, so we figure it was some ritual magic or another.”

“Apedemak,” Aster growled. “One of his tricks. He gets mortals to set up the ritual letting him step across…”

Kern frowned. “He’s that strong?”

“They believe - no, they _know_ \- he’s a god. Every time he does anything, it only reinforces that belief. Every new mortal, every new spirit, he gathers to himself, the more strength he gets. _Exponentially_.”

Because it wasn’t so simple as what the Guardians had, was the thing. One believer gave them one believer’s worth of strength. Two gave them two, three gave them three, so on and so forth. But the children, and occasional adult, just saw them as seasonal or holiday spirits, embodiments of a single day or thing only. It was all very straightforward.

For a god, especially one that was in for showy displays of power, one believer was well and good, two was fine, but as the numbers grew the exponents began. Four believers gave him all the power of sixteen, sixteen gave him the power of two-hundred-fifty-six, two-hundred-fifty-six gave him the power of over _sixty-five thousand_ and on it went, until he had hundreds upon hundreds of believers and the strength that should have gone with _millions_.

If Aster let himself think about it too much, he might have worried. But he’d killed Apedemak once already, hadn’t he? Yes. Of course he had. And he hadn’t been the Easter Bunny then, barely even thought of as a fertility symbol. Yet a single blow in just the right place had felled the lion-headed god - though, of course, the mortals had given credit to some idiot up the river, not that he was feeling bitter about it or anything.

Granted, it had helped that he was a Pooka and not some two-bit Earthborn spirit, but still. Not bitter.

The hum of chatter around them rose abruptly, and then fell sharply moments later, as the front doors creaked open loudly. A hush fell over the room as-

_Oh._

Jack.

Bunny shifted awkwardly. Armor was not meant for erections.

Maybe he’d have it let out in the groin a bit after all.

Jack looked around the room, nodded once, and then joined Odin, Thor, and Loki at the front of the room. Aster pushed his way up close, the better to admire the fine figure of his mate, clad entirely in midnight-blue leather that fit him like a second skin. Jack’s personal WINTER sigil, of the ravens with two crossed staves, was in the center of his chest, almost like a target, and done in a lovely shade of silvery-blue. Two lines of the same silvery-blue crossed over his hips, looking a bit like a stylized belt.

And, Aster realized, Jack was wearing boots.

Jack. _In boots._

That… actually did things to his libido he’d not expected. That might have had something to do with how the boots were designed to allow Jack free use of his toes. He’d seen the occasional mortal in those weird toed-rubber shoes, but this… this was much nicer, and, he’d bet his googies on it, much more flexible and all-around protective.

Plus, and this was totally not in an way relevant, they accentuated Jack’s calves quite nicely.

Totally irrelevant. Just… a thing he’d noticed.

Not like he was staring or anything.

Kern elbowed him. “You might want to wipe up the drool,” he murmured.

Drool? He swiped at his mouth. Oh. “Ah. Right. Thanks.”

Jack had been conferring with the Norse gods, but at Kern’s words, glanced over and grinned at Aster. The leather shifted in a very flattering way as he waved.

Aster made sure his mouth was closed, swallowed very carefully, and waved back.

“You’re a very lucky man, Bunnymund,” Kern murmured, elbowing him in a much more friendly manner, like two blokes teasing each other about their dates. Ah. Well… nothing for it. At least he could tease back. Maybe Jack’d reward his good behavior later….

“You do realize Jack’ll let me top him, yeah?” Aster murmured, and smirked. “I know damn well just how lucky I am.”

Kern blinked several times, glancing between Aster and Jack’s ass. “Ah… he told you?”

“Which part, where you forgot to mention fertility spirits can handle a little infertility in a mate, or the part where you seem confused about what those horns atop your head mean?”

The deer sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “He told you.” Kern looked up, slightly panicked. “Don’t tell anyone else? I mean, Raijin and Izanami know, of course, because, well… _you know_. But I have a reputation to maintain!” He paused, before continuing in a whisper. “If Quetza found out I _bottom_ ….”

Aster cringed despite himself.

“Alright, alright! I’ll keep shut about it.” Although Quetza had apparently calmed down quite a bit; Jack had chortled over the decrease in ‘sexual harassment’ paperwork, while at the same time making cryptic comments about Tooth. Aster wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Odin stood up, and thumped an odd-looking spear against the ground. The resulting sound was more reminiscent of a gong than anything. Aster flattened his ears and scowled, and he wasn’t the only one to look annoyed at the noise.

“Dramatic much?” Jack muttered, audible even to the back of the room thanks to the resulting silence.

Aster snickered. Jack flashed him an unrepentant grin, completely ignoring Odin’s scowl.

“Agents of WINTER,” Odin thundered, “We are at war. The entity once known as Apedemak has risen again, and taken action against us. Our brothers in arms to the south were slain with cowardly tricks and forbidden means. Apedemak brings mortals into the conflicts of the spirit world, and for that alone I name him outcast!”

Aster perked his ears forward. ‘Outcast’? That was a very serious label to throw around. It basically meant that anyone could attack him without repercussions. Like naming a criminal an outlaw or bandit in olden times. Outcasts in the spirit world had more to dodge than the mortal ‘wolfs heads’ had, since the spirit world had the likes of Mother Nature, Father Time, and the Grim Reaper, when he stirred himself to interfere in such things.

A low susurration of noise flowed around the room, before quieting down with another strike of the spear upon the ground.

“The Fortress shall be moved to Antarctica. Mortals will have a difficult time finding us there, let alone attacking,” Odin said, with a fierce smile. “Let him try to use the forbidden ways of war; we will arrange matters so that he cannot and must meet us on a level field.”

The floor shuddered, a light dusting of frost crystals raining down around Aster. He resolutely ignored the fact that such events likely meant that the Fortress was taking off. If he didn’t look out a window, it wasn’t happening.

His stomach didn’t believe him, but he ignored it.

“Agents of WINTER,” Odin intoned. “Your Regents go to war. Who shall follow us?”

The room burst into cheers. Aster clamped his lips closed, and didn’t join in.

Jack noticed. And smiled.

Good. Aster didn’t follow WINTER. He would follow Jack, though, if he asked, and it looked like his mate knew that.

He smiled back.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Wednesday, 26 June 2013 -- Fortress, somewhere over the South Atlantic, early evening**

Jack wasn’t exactly surprised when he entered his office and found Aster in the desk chair. Pleased, yes; surprised, not really. “Where’d the armor go?” he asked. The odd, golden-green armor had looked surprisingly good on Aster. Maybe not the sort of thing to make a guy think amorous thoughts, and good thing considering how tight his own uniform was, but still pretty good.

The Pooka shrugged. “It was a bit tight in the chest and… groin, so it’s off with Weyland for adjustment and cleaning. He said he should have it ready by the time we arrive at the South Pole.” He coughed. “I like that you have no windows; I can ignore the fact that we’re flying.”

“The groin, huh?” Jack leered, leaning forward against the desk. “Yeah, I know. I like not having windows, too. Peeping toms bad, privacy good, my own little area to have some nookie very good… Wanna neck?”

Aster grinned. “Do you even have to ask?” And then pulled Jack bodily towards him by the collar of his armor.

Jack laughed, and went more than willingly. Unfortunately, duty reared its ugly head the moment Aster started scrabbling at the collar and muttering about fastenings. “Ah. Yeah. About that.”

“I think it’s stuck.” Aster grunted. “Why is it stuck?”

“Because it doesn’t come off.” Jack blushed. “Like, at all.”

Aster stared at him, slightly wide-eyed. “Wot? Then how am I supposed to play with your donger?”

Jack didn’t roll his eyes, even though he wanted to. “I don’t think playtime was on Weyland’s list of ‘things the armor must do’. I wish it had been, but considering it’d be Weyland planning for that, maybe I don’t wish…”

His mate eyed him shrewdly.

“What?”

“That kind of magic armor is usually self-cleaning. Outside _and_ in.”

“Yes, it is, but it’s also extremely uncomfortable before said self-cleaning sets in, and-” Jack pulled back. Just a little. “I think we need to talk. And now I owe Kern twenty bucks.”

Aster idly ran a finger over Jack’s rather obvious erection. “Too bad. What’s this you’re on about now?”

“Ah…” He grabbed for Aster’s wrist. “Um. Kern bet me I wouldn’t turn down sex with you, of any kind, for the first year… Aster, really, we need to talk.”

His other paw was lightly playing across Jack’s chest, pressing a bit more firmly where he knew Jack’s nipples were. “Hmm? Yes?”

“You should go back to the Warren,” he blurted.

The hands stilled. “Not on your life.”

Growling. Growling bad.

“Hear me out,” Jack said. He resettled himself on the desk, feet dangling to either side of Aster’s hips. “Look. We’re at war. Apedemak… You’d guess better than me, but the baby agents are prepping the place for a siege. The other Regents are going to take to the field, which means I get the fun job of staying back and being General.”

The growling intensified. “All the more reason for me to stay.”

Under any other circumstance, Aster staring at him that intently promised good things. Now… not so much.

“I don’t think you get it,” Jack murmured. “I won’t… I know you don’t like having a Guard. Well, you won’t. Have one, I mean, because I won’t be - and Kern and the kitsune won’t be, either, because we’ll be here. But even if you’re here, Bunny, _I won’t be_. Because my brain’s going to be out there, with everyone that’s fighting this guy. I’m sorry.”

Aster grabbed Jack around the waist and pulled him into his lap. Jack absolutely did _not_ squeak in an unmanly fashion.

“Firstly, no. Secondly, _hell_ no. Thirdly, and for the record, _no_ ,” Aster growled, before kissing Jack hard for a long moment. “I’m staying. And that’s _final_. You forget, _I_ was a general too, once, and one the chief strategists of the Pookan military. I’m more useful _here_ than _hiding_ at home.”

Jack blinked several times, and then dropped his staff to one side. “Were you? I didn’t actually know that.” He looped his arms around Aster’s neck, and maybe, sort of, seemed to do his best to hide his face in Aster’s fur. You know, if you tilted your head sideways and squinted, it would look a little like that.

“I’m scared.”

Or a lot like hiding, actually.

Aster hugged him tightly and chinned him. “I know. Me too.”

“I’ve never, actually, been a general before. I mean, not properly; it was just a title, before,” he whispered. “People are going to die. I’m going to tell people to go do something that’ll make them dead.”

His mate gently stroked the back of his head. “I know. But you know what?”

“What?”

He was pushed gently back so that they could look each other in the eye. “I’ll be right there with you. Every good general has good advisors.”

Aster smiled softly, encouragingly.

Jack sniffed and smiled back tentatively.

“Love you, Kangaroo.”

“Love you too, drongo.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 27 June 2013 -- Fortress, South Pole, early morning**

“Let’s see,” Jack muttered, flipping through a quaint little thing he called a ‘tablet’. Well, when he’d first accepted it from one of Weyland’s assistants, he’d called it a tablet. The thing’s name had changed to ‘I did not tap that you evil little screen’.

It was cute. Pooka’d had similar, but a bit… fancier, one could say. Holographic interfaces were still a bit away for humans, despite what the movies showed.

Aster followed along behind Jack, admiring the view. Pity about the uniform not coming off - though it’d _better_ when this whole thing had been settled - but at least Jack looked good in it. Given a little time to think, admire, and study, he’d decided that Jack’s uniform looked more than a little like the Captain America outfit from one of the comic lines.

Not a bad look at all.

“Huh.” Jack tapped on the tablet, and hummed thoughtfully. “Heimdall came out of retirement? Weird, but I guess there’s no one better for…”

“Isn’t he the bloke that guarded the Rainbow Bridge?” Aster asked after a moment’s racking of his brain for why that was familiar. “Or is that just in the movie?”

“Movie, myth, and reality, apparently.” Jack waved the tablet about in a way that made Aster cringe, expecting broken technology and shouting. “He’s in charge of the Portal room.”

Aster frowned. “Portal room?”

“How do you think we get everywhere, or up to the Moon? Portal room. You’ll see.”

He suppressed a shudder at the idea, since the very word ‘portal’ brought up bad memories of North’s early experiments with his snow globes. It was not fun having both shoulders and hips dislocated because North forgot to ‘tune the sphere’ or some such nonsense.

“Something wrong?”

Apparently, he’d not suppressed the shudder enough. “Nah. I was just… thinking… about why I don’t like portals.”

Jack turned and began walking backwards. Rank had its privileges; the spirits in the way moved to the sides of the hall, letting Jack go unhindered. “Bunny, I promise you, WINTER’s Portal is nothing like North’s.” He paused thoughtfully, and added, “You can’t move an army with North’s.”

“... as long as it’s not like that game you tried to show me once. _Those_ portals lend themselves to very naughty things, as you tried to tell me. ‘Go fuck yourself’ indeed.”

Jack smirked. “You laughed.”

Aster shook his head fondly and followed Jack down the corridor. “Where are they sending us now?”

“You don’t have to come, you know.”

“Remember what I said…” he warned, waggling a finger at his mate.

“Jotunheim,” Jack said, utterly deadpan.

“Wot?”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Þórsdagr, Níundi Sólmánuður -- Jotunheim, evening**

Jack hunched over, arms wrapped around himself, and snarled at the howling wind. “Damn gale doesn’t listen to a word I say,” he said. “It’s freaking cold here!”

Aster tilted his head to examine Jack like he was a new specimen of flower. A very strange and unusual one. His gaze was interrupted by a sneeze and a full-body shudder. “I can’t feel my feet!”

He practically danced, albeit gingerly, after Jack, as the other spirit trudged through the knee-deep snow. “How come you can feel the cold, anyway?”

“Because it’s _really freaking cold_?” Jack waved one hand at the snowy expanse of… ice and snow. “This is freaking Jotunheim, the eternal snowball, and even I have limits. I’m a frost spirit, bound to a wind spirit. I’m not an _ice age_ spirit like these nutbars!”

He shivered again. “Point. How much farther? I think my nose is frozen.”

“You’re not allowed to be cold! Weyland gave you a coat and boots and hat!”

“If _you_ can be cold, so can I!” he said, without a hint of a whine.

“Stop whining!”

Okay. Maybe a little whine. “Are we there yet?”

“Bunny!” Jack whirled around, and grinned. “I’m not Papa Smurf! You cut that out! Don’t make me come over there!”

“And warm me up?” he asked hopefully. “Wait, is that it?”

‘That’ turned out to be a mound of ice and snow that looked a bit more planned than the rest of the terrain. Jack shrugged, studied the mound, and nodded. “Yup. Looks like. Let’s go.”

“I can’t feel my feet!” he exclaimed again, if only because Jack kept twitching every time he whined and it was kind of funny. “Or my nose! I hope there’s heat in there somewhere….”

“Shut up, Aster, we’re almost there.” Jack hunched over and growled at another blast of wind. “That’s it. Next time? We’re bringing Wind with us. She’d eat this jerk!”

Reaching the mound, Jack poked around with his staff until he found what seemed to be a crack in the ice. He shoved the butt of the staff into it and heaved. The ice groaned and slid to the side.

An entrance. Huh. Was that firelight inside?

They dashed in and the door slammed shut behind them. Yes. Yes it was firelight.

Oh thank El-Ahrairah.

He really couldn’t feel his feet. Or his nose. Or his paws. Or… anything, really. Fat lot of good these clothes did him. Not feeling his donger was the worst part of it; that was just downright disturbing. He muttered as much and Jack shot him an incredulous look, before turning towards the hallway ahead.

He took a deep breath in the relatively warmer air, and then called out in an odd tongue, not quite Norse, very definitely not human. When’d he learn that? And why?

The ground rumbled as an answering bellow followed a few moments later.

“Right. C’mon, Cottontail, they’re expecting us. Whatever you do, don’t eat anything.”

He grunted and gingerly followed; with the lack of feeling, he was having trouble maintaining balance on the frosted stone floor.

“Like I’d want their meat anyway….”

“No, they’ve got vegetables too, they’re just… _really_ bad cooks. Everything’s half-burnt, half-raw, and totally disgusting.”

His ears tried to twitch under the hood. At least a part of him still had sensation. Why’d he come along again?

Jack sneezed.

Ah right. That’s why. Stupid ‘must protect mate’ complex. Stupid instincts. Stupid Jotunheim. Stupid stupid stupid….

They rounded a bend and the hall ended abruptly, opening in a vast chamber that had several large bonfires burning in the middle, more for light than warmth, Aster dimly noted, as he took in the giants. Very large, very tall, _very_ muscular, and very… well, intimidating, for a lesser man.

But he was a Pookan warrior. They were-

One of them growled at him.

Okay, maybe a little intimidating. He huddled a bit tighter in his clothes. For warmth.

Right.

Jack tossed a snowball at the growling Jotun, and shook one finger in warning. “Ah-ah, be nice. This is E. Aster Bunnymund, my, eh, consort’s as good a word as any…”

He was favored with not a few appraising glances. He tried to stand taller under their scrutiny.

And then sneezed again.

Damn it.

Deciding to screw propriety, he sidled closer to one of the fires and started warming his feet. He sighed happily. Several giants chuckled at him.

“Not built for blizzards, that one,” one of the giants said.

“And thou art not built for brains,” another giant, its - her? - voice higher pitched than the others.

Aster chanced a glance; yes, breasts. Bigger than his head. Ah. That was … very strange.

She had long, white hair pulled back in what would have been, on Earth, a French braid. She was shorter than the other giants, but they all made way for her, with respectful nods. She stopped in front of Aster, hands on her hips, and frowned down at him. Not as though she disapproved, but just… considering.

“So, you have caught the frost-bringer,” she said. “You’re taller than I was expecting.”

Aster stood up properly from where he’d been trying to rub some warmth into his toes. He shot Jack a look, but the sprite was looking entirely too amused for Aster’s peace of mind. He looked up.

“You’re taller than I expected too.”

“Hah! I am young and weak and small in power,” she said, but smiled while she spoke. “Of course I am tall. Perhaps we will both shrink, you and I, as we grow into our strength. Still…” She poked one finger at him. “You are not bad at all, warrior. I hope you fight with brains as well as brawn.”

He nodded, sharply, once. “Aye, that I do. They didn’t train us any other way, back home.”

“Good, good. A nice change from our warriors. Punch first, ask questions never. Johannes Óðinnsen, what brings thou here? Introducing thy consort, or something more interesting?”

Jack did a doubletake at the female Jotun. “Uh. What. How did you… who told?”

“Is it not obvious? One need only look at thou to see the resemblance to Baldr.”

“Right,” Jack muttered. “Loki dies.”

The Jotun smiled, and patted him on the head. With only two fingers. Otherwise she’d have brained him good. “The halfling had nothing to do with it.”

Jack giggled at Loki’s moniker. “Halfling? Okay. That’s it. I’m calling him Frodo from now on.”

“Oh, don’t. Frodo was a compassionate, intelligent bloke,” Aster complained. “Loki’s just a wanker.”

Jack stared at him for a long moment. “Geek.”

“Wanker.”

“You’d know.” Jack grinned, unrepentant.

“Oi!”

“This is charming as snowfall at midnight,” the Jotun said. “Impart the reason for thy visit, if you please.”

“War,”Jack said, turning serious. “War is coming to the Fortress.”

“And you wish Jotun aid,” she said, placid as a still lake. “Good. Something for the idiots to do, apart from take up useful space with their worthless behinds.”

“Anika is already making the arrangements for the portal through. I was sent to formally request your aid, as is only right and proper.”

Aster eyed Jack. Strange, hearing him voice the old forms so well.

“And your consort?”

“Wouldn’t let me leave without him,” Jack replied easily, with a grin and a shrug.

“He grows more appealing with every word. Thou shouldst cleave to him, lest another steal him away.” She shrugged, and waved at the Jotun around her. “Get thee thy weapons, my people. War comes, and we shall answer the wyrd the Norns wove for us, at the dawn of all that is.”

A great cry went up, which, really, Aster should have expected, but his ears hurt all the same. He muttered several invectives under his breath. The she-giant smirked at him, but said nothing of his impropriety.

“Come on, Cottontail, it’s time to go home,” Jack called, turning to leave.

Aster stared at his retreating back. “But I just got warm!”

Jack groaned. “Stop whining!”

“Don’ wanna!”

The she-giant just laughed.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 27 June 2013 -- Fortress, Antarctica, days-long night, approximately late evening**

Jack nuzzled Aster’s chest, more than half asleep. It was a bit weird, wearing the uniform to bed. Not uncomfortable, exactly, just… different. He’d slept in his clothes plenty of times - any time he hadn’t been in a hospital gown, actually - but this wasn’t like that. The uniform had a different feel to it, the leather was both thicker and stiffer and tingled with implanted magic against his skin.

Between the uniform and their being in the crib, he and Aster hadn’t gotten very handsy. At all, really. Cuddled up together in a single, narrow bed barely wide enough for Jack, but other than that, highly chaste.

Probably because Thor was sprawled out two beds down, snoring loud enough to annoy a corpse.

“Hey love,” Aster whispered, sounding more than a little drowsy himself, nuzzling the top of his head. “You ‘wake?”

“No, I’m sleep talking. You smell of blue and your eyes are fish.”

A soft chuckle buzzed beneath his head. It was comforting. “As your advisor, I should check on your state of mind. As your ‘consort’, I worry about your health, mental and physical. As _me…_ how are you doing?”

Jack yawned, and thought about it. Well, as much as anyone could think about anything at oh-god-it’s-dark-thirty in the morning. “Are you sore about the consort thing? I’m a Regent, you’re my lover-slash-mate-slash-we’re unofficial technically, that makes you technically my consort.”

He snorted softly. “No worries mate. I like being yours; you’re mine too, you know. But that didn’t answer my question.”

“So far, so good. But we haven’t started the actual fighting yet.”

His partner nodded, and chinned him lightly. “One day at a time, Jackie. Now get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Mm, sure.” He closed his eyes, but didn’t immediately drop off. “I’m glad she liked you,” he murmured, only half aware that it was out loud.

He missed the faint smile on Aster’s face, and the “Me too, Snowflake. Me too.” as he drifted off.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack woke with a start. “What was that?”

Aster stirred beneath him. “Wot?” he asked groggily.

A loud boom resounded throughout the chamber, and the ground shook.

Oh.

“Giants, maybe?” he said hopefully.

Another boom and shudder.

“Jack,” Aster said, now fully alert. “I don’t think that’s the giants.”

  
  


%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Sound the drums, blow the horns, let loose the dogs of war. SIEGE!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: *flexes medieval warfare knowledge*


	28. Chapter 28

**Friday, 28 June 2013 -- Fortress, South Pole, Antarctica, ‘why’d they have to attack in the wee hours?’ (according to Aster)**

“Jack!” Kern shouted, running into the sleeping quarters. “The Bailey’s under attack!”

Aster blinked, and Jack somehow missed planting a knee in his face. “Get the trainees out of there,” Jack snapped. “And if they’re out, get them to the portal room and start a general evacuation. No one level two or under remains in this Fortress, hear me? Send them to the Northern Outpost.”

Kern saluted once, and ran out.

“Jack?” Aster asked, sitting up and pulling on his bandolier. “Bailey?”

“It’s a permanent location. Outside the walls. Long story, no time now. Thor. Thor! Wake up - oh, forget it.” Jack threw an ice ball at Thor’s arse.

The god grunted and snorted loudly. “Wuh?”

Jack screamed something in Old Norse, a particular accent Aster had never bothered learning. The effect was quite nice, though; Thor about levitated out of bed and summoned his hammer with a gesture. It broke through the wall, but at least he had it. Aster watched as Jack flicked his staff at it and iced over the hole, as if on reflex.

Aster snorted. Probably _was_ reflex _._

“Get out there and wreak havoc,” Jack snapped, back to English. “Now!”

Thor bellowed - ow - and flew out the door, almost literally. Loki poked his head in a moment later.

“Jack! Mother just arrived with the other Jotun! Where do you want them?”

“Courtyard for now, we’ll get creative in a minute or two. Please tender my thanks to Nál for her timely arrival and tell the warriors not to kill each other. Anyone who does gets to deal with _me_.”

Loki nodded sharply and disappeared in a flash of light.

_Huh._ _Projection maybe?_

Then what Loki’d said caught up with him. “Wait. Jack, the lady Jotun we spoke with yesterday?”

“Loki’s mother, Farbuti’s wife, yeah. Super-major important. Just remember, she prefers Nál to Laufey, these days, and you’ll get along fine. Coming with me, getting your armor, what is it?” Jack glanced at his staff, which gained a new layer of ice.

Aster cast about. Oh, right. Armor down in the Forge. Jack noticed.

“Right. Go see Weyland; I’ll be in the command center when you’re armed and armored.”

Aster nodded and ran out the door. Unlike every other location in the blasted mountain-castle, the Forge was easy to find, as it was placed right below the first floor at the center of the complex. He made it there in record time, though he’d had to bound off walls and ceilings to dodge all the running agents.

He skid to a stop right next to the old smith. “Weyland! Where’s my armor?”

“Over there with my assistant. He’s just finishing off the last stitches, _aren’t you boy_?” The last had been bellowed and was followed by some furious nodding and increased rapidity in the sewing.

Aster stepped around several other apprentices, who were carrying armfuls of weaponry and, in one notable case, pieces of a ballista, and, by the time he’d made it to the assistant, the bloke was tying off the last thread. Good timing.

“Bunnymund!” Kern exclaimed as he just _appeared_ out of the wooden pillar next to him; he at least managed to avoid honking this time. “Jack sent me to help you into your armor.”

“Jack did, did he?” Aster’s eye twitched, but he refrained from comment. For now. He’d have quite a large number of words to give to Jack later.

“Also to help you to the command center. There’s a side passage meant only for officers and such. Here, let me get that.”

Aster resigned himself to being dressed by Kern again, but at least it meant that the armor went on well, and fast. Fast was good. If nothing else, he’d give Kern points for that.

There was a sudden, loud crash of thunder halfway through the arming process. Aster didn’t jump, but he very much wanted to. The apprentices did, several dropping their armloads. Weyland barked at them to get their shit together.

“Trebuchet,” Kern muttered. “Greater range. Must’ve hit the side.”

Aster nodded. Logical. “Should target those first. Wonder if Jack knows that?”

“... not sure. You can tell him when you get upstairs.”

Shortly, Aster found himself tailing Kern up through a cramped passageway to the command center that ran directly from the Forge. Convenient, if claustrophobic. Probably so cramped to squeeze it between rooms. It _was_ a secret passage, after all, or so Kern’d told him. Certainly, no one else was using it. The dust was thick on the floor, and even on the walls where Kern’s antlers scraped it free.

Aster sneezed.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

He shrugged, though the cervid couldn’t see. “Can’t be helped. Should have these cleaned more often, though.”

Kern grunted and remained quiet until they reached a dead end, where it widened enough for them to come abreast of each other. He carefully placed his shoulder against one side of the wall. “Here, Bunnymund, a little help? Against the other side and on the count of three, push?”

Aster nodded, and set his shoulder to the other side. “One,” he said, and braced himself for the push.

“Two… three!”

They pushed, hard, and the icewall shifted and then began moving on it’s own.

“Pressure latch. Needs a strong back to open. I can do it on my own, but this is faster.”

Aster grunted, and continued to push, until the wall finally clicked and began sliding to the side. He caught himself before he fell from lack of resistance, and stood up.

“- _mean the portal’s down_?”

The portal was down? Bloody hell.

Aster marched right up to his mate and placed a hand on his shoulder, causing Jack to turn and gaze at him questioningly. “Jack, we need to get those trebuchets taken down _now_. Can the Jotun throw that far?”

“They’re giants, we have our own trebuchets - Kern, get down to the Portal room, you’re on evac. Trainees are there, portal’s down. _Move_.”

Kern saluted and ran back down the secret tunnel as the door closed behind him.

“Either way. Trebuchet are harder to aim, but have great accuracy; go for it. What else we got?”

“The usual. Catapults, ballistae, several trebuchets, as I mentioned. Something weird and Roman-sounding too.”

“Onager, probably.”

Jack eyed him funny. “Yeah, that.”

And the giants, in addition to the regular agents, who had a variety of abilities. Aster hummed. Jack gestured at a table laid out before him. Examining the surface, it appeared to be a miniature layout of the Fortress complex. There was a ringwall around the main landing area for the Fortress itself, and a moat of - really spiky ice? - around that, separating it from the forward bailey.

Ah. That’s what Kern had meant, a lower bailey that functioned as the main outpost here when the Fortress was gone. Logical and prudent, as it now functioned as the ‘easy’ access to the castle and, therefore, was the first target of any siege. It had it’s own moat, of sorts, though that wasn’t nearly as deep, though still quite ‘spiky’.

“Not a bad setup you guys have here, Jack. With the Fortress and curtain wall set higher up on the mountain base, the only good route in is through the bailey. What’s the siege force look like?”

Jack scowled, and tapped the table. Foggy shapes began to form, until they ‘solidified’ into what could only be assumed to be the attacking army. “Most of them are here,” he said, and tapped the group nearest the bailey, which shifted to a red shade. “But there’s enough groups along this line -” He traced a deep arc around the rest of the Fortress, leaving a misty blue trail. “-to keep escape that way… unadvisable.”

“How does it change color? Is it like some of my brushes? Just an act of will?”

Jack looked incredulous. “Is now _really_ the best time to ask that kind of question?”

“If I’m to use the table, yes.” Aster shook his head and tapped a nearby group, ‘willing’ it to go green. Ah. Good. “Yes. Same principle. Moving on.”

Jack flipped him off, muttering quietly enough not even Pookan ears could pick up actual words. Just tone, which at the moment was less than flattering.

Aster studied the layout of the Fortress and the surrounding armies for a few minutes, Jack getting more anxious next to him by the moment, barking out the occasional order. He hummed thoughtfully, and ignored Jack’s reaction - which was to whip around and stare at him hopefully, the poor bastard - and then he fished around in his satchel, searching for-

“Aha! I thought I put that in here,” Aster exclaimed happily as he extracted a set of Pookan omnoculars from his bag. “Is there a lookout tower above the command center?”

“You want to go up high? _You_? Yeah, fine, this way.”

Jack led him to a half-hidden spiral staircase and gestured upwards. “Couple flights up. You _sure_ you want to go up high? I know how you get.”

“Want isn’t the right word,” Aster growled, and glared at the staircase. “But I need to take a look. I’ll be back in a tic.”

Aster half-ran up the stairs - spirals not conducive to a full run - and, in short order, found himself atop a spire above the rest of the Fortress. Taking a deep breath and resolutely resolving to ignore his discomfort with just how high up this really was, he stepped out next to the lookouts and found a good spot to gaze around. Carefully settling the omnoculars over his head and cinching the straps snug to his skull, he slowly shifted his gaze across the forces opposing them.

_So,_ he mused. _Apedemak sent a rather ragtag assortment of spirits to assault us. Still, for a ‘ragtag’ group, it’s diversity makes up for it’s lack of numbers._

He saw several different kinds of giants - who more than made up for lack of numbers where they were stationed - as well as the expected assortment of low-level ‘evil’ spirit fodder - ghouls, goblins, shades, and the like. Cannon fodder, he’d heard Jack call that once during a battle scene in a movie they’d watched. Appropriate.

The real threat was the giants, and the obviously specialized troops - he saw not a few manticores, several gorgons, and, in one notable case, a large crocodile spirit. One that was larger than the trebuchet it was next to. Several other spirits he couldn’t immediately identify were also notable and spread out around the Fortress.

No Apedemak though. Typical.

_How the hell is that crocodile managing in this cold?_ he wondered, even as he hunched his shoulders against a cold gust of wind. Wonder if he could borrow Wind to keep the cold off… on second thought, no. He’d rather lose toes to frostbite, at least they’d grow back!

Having seen enough, he made his way back downstairs. He found Jack running around, half-frantically.

“Bunny! There you are! I’m losing my mind! I have no idea how to run a siege - why did they put me in charge?”

He took his mate by the shoulders and shook him lightly. “Jack! Calm down! Breathe, Frostbite. Just breathe. That’s it.”

Jack visibly calmed after several breaths. “Sorry.”

“Not at all. It’s alright. You’re going to be just fine, you’ve got me helping you. Now. Here’s what I saw.”

“... what is that on _your head?_ ”

Aster rolled his eyes and removed the omnoculars. “These are omnoculars. Watch.”

He set them on a rolling table-cart and moved it adjacent to the strategy table. He then pressed a hidden button and a holographic image spawned above them, replaying the view he’d taken from above.

“Neat. Is that a _crocodile_?”

“Yes, though I have no idea how it’s surviving out here in this cold.” Aster shrugged and began tapping various groups on the table, shifting colors rapidly.

“Apedemak sent him? Man’s an idiot, even a level one baby agent can shatter a warming spell…” Jack began to smirk. “Oooh. They must _all_ be using warming spells.”

Aster grinned. “Yes, most likely. However, we need to identify the source of whatever it is that’s interfering with the Portal and, I’d wager, the flight systems. I bet you that they’ve got a global warming spell tied to that device.”

“Flight systems?” Jack stopped smirking. “Crap. They’ve been messing with the flight systems? Forget the agents, we’ll just tell Weyland and let him out the front door, they’ll be begging for mercy… the survivors, anyways.”

Aster barked a laugh as he finished adjusting the layout. “Alright Jack. Look. I’ve identified all the important targets in red - mostly siege equipment, for now - and demarcated the location of all the noteworthy spirits in green. The crocodile is that darker green over there; I suspect he’s important, though I know not why… just a gut feeling.”

“Well, I’m sure Odin will enjoy whacking him a good one. Crap, I have to give the other Regents orders.” Jack looked vaguely panicked a moment, and then shook it off. “The duo of annoying can go here… Brenda and Vahan will have fun, I’m sure. And our giants will enjoy wrestling with theirs, just as soon as we can get rid of those trebuchets.”

Aster nodded. “Right. If we have any fliers with ranged, possibly fire or explosive, abilities, I’d suggest putting them on projectile deflection duty, destroying the boulders before they hit.”

“Fire and explosive?” Jack shrugged. “Loki. We have Loki. Alright.” He bent over the table, and began moving about figures that were just recognizable as the already mentioned agents and Jotun. “This could work.”

“Does the table communicate with them, or do you have intermediaries?” Jack shot him a look. “What? I’m curious!”

“I’ve got a window,” Jack said flatly. “And a door. And a very loud voice. Cover your ears, I’m going to start yelling.”

Aster dutifully covered his ears. Jack picked up a small device and held it before his mouth as he opened a window and started barking orders. It apparently went over their comm line, but he could hear the static interference from their foes’ device. The shouting seemed to do the trick, though, as the marked entities on the table began moving in the right directions.

“We really need to find that device…” Aster mused as he replayed the footage from his omnoculars again.

A sudden, and very loud, boom echoed up from the lower bailey. Jack swore.

“Thor.” Jack turned, and stopped short. “Goddamn it! I can’t - Anika! Someone get Anika, the wall fell!”

One of the other agents scrambled to the comm station, but it seemed that the static was only increasing on the line. Damn it.

“Jack. Where is she?” he asked, pointing at the table.

“Ah…” Jack tapped the table in an odd pattern, and parts of the Fortress seemed to melt away. “She’s in the forward Armory, just beyond the central gatehouse. How the hell am I going to get a message to her?”

“Allow me,” Aster said, tapping the ground and opening a tunnel, as he extracted a small rod from his weapons pouch. He rapped it hard, once, against the cart-table and it telescoped out into a six-foot metal staff, which he strapped to his back.

“Bunny,” Jack said warily. “What’re you doing?”

“Popping down for a cuppa, what’s it look like? I’ll relay the message and be back in a mo’.”

Before Jack could respond, he hopped down into the hole and ran.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Jack forced himself to take a sip of the tea, which woke his stomach up, which ended with him draining three cups in a row without taking more than a single breath. He’d pay for it later, but at the moment his dry mouth and queasy stomach demanded the tea.

He didn’t even _like_ tea. At least, not this tea. He sighed; Aster made the best tea.

Which also wasn’t the point. The siege was… going about as well as anyone could expect, considering he was commanding things. And half their magical tech had died. If Aster hadn’t been popping in and out with observations and suggestions, Jack probably would have been tearing his hair out and probably getting an in-person visit from that crocodile guy.

Who was most likely the freaking leader of the siege, come to think of it. Go figure.

“Handbags,” Jack muttered. “We’re all going to have leather handbags. Crocodile hide is in season, isn’t it?”

Several agents snickered at his remark, though they kept at their work.

“What is taking Aster so long?”

One of the kitsune piped up. “Incursion in the forward Armory. Sappers. Made a wrong turn, I bet.”

Jack calculated the amount of damage Anika could do on her own, and scowled. If Aster was just watching the show, he’d be very, very cranky.

Damn it, he wanted to get _out_ there. He was a field agent, not a general!

Jack tapped the table several times and zoomed down on the forward Armory. Yep, there were a bunch of goons - he marked them in red for clarity - and then searched around for-

_Ah. There he is._

Jack felt worry worm in his gut even as he grinned at the vague display of Aster and Anika fighting, side-by-side, and pushing back the sappers almost single-handedly.

Anika wouldn’t let Aster get hurt, and Aster wouldn’t let Anika get hurt, so why was he worrying? Oh, right, he was stuck up here playing general while they were down there getting to have some actual, y’know, _fun_.

Jack sighed, and turned his attention to the activity outside the walls. The ice-moat was keeping most of the enemy army away. There were always a few who thought they could leap the gap… Those few were discovering just what happened when they tried to take WINTER on in its own ground. There were a few agents, with ice powers, who made the spikes grow extremely quickly, spearing those jumpers and drawing them down out of sight.

Still, that section of wall remained heavily damaged, and if Anika didn’t get over there soon...

“What heavy hitters have we got free?” he asked. Kern… no, Kern was helping transport the junior agents out, with a few other of the Old Gods who could walk through wood. Heimdall wasn’t an option. Weyland was working.

One of the ravens replied. “Regent, there’s not many left, and Odin forbid us to wake Jor. Let me see who’s available.”

Jor? Right, Jor. Yeah, no, leave him sleeping. “What about Fenrir. Fenris? The wolf guy.”

Some tapping of keys. “Ah! He’s still pending orders and guarding the central gatehouse.”

“Hah! Good. Send someone to tender my respects to the Lady Nál, ask her to take Fenrir’s place and send him to reinforce the bailey. No eating anyone, though, he might catch stupidity from these guys. I’ll get him Kobe beef out of my own pocket after.”

It took a good minute, but then he saw the figures moving around as order. Not as quick to respond as he was used to, but pretty good, considering they hadn’t expected to have their communications jammed. Weyland was going to have kittens about that later, he was sure of it.

Outside, a Very Large Wolf howled. It was very loud, and for a brief second, the sounds of fighting stopped. Jack looked away from the table just long enough to check Fenrir’s progress, and grinned.

He was always reminded of that one story for children, about Clifford the Big Red Dog, when he saw Fenrir. Heck, he was even a ‘red’ wolf.

When he glanced back to the table, his heart almost stopped.

Aster was missing. Where…?

“Jack!”

Jack jumped, and spun around, battle-ready. “Aster! Don’t _do_ that!” He lowered his staff. “Make some noise, next time!”

Aster blinked at him several times, before grinning sharply. “ _I_ snuck up on _you_? Oh, wait until I tell the others!”

“ _Honey_ ,” Jack said, tone sickly-sweet and warning all at once.

The Pooka twitched at the unusual ‘endearment’ and coughed into his fist, once. “Right. Anika is joining that- that _thing_ you call a wolf at the fallen section. They should have it repaired shortly.”

“Fenrir, the big red wolf,” Jack muttered. “Forget repaired, I’ll just be happy if no more nasty stuff gets through.”

Aster nodded absently as he studied the table - and then stopped and stared at it, hard.

“Jack?” Aster asked softly. “Where’s the crocodile?”

“What?” Jack turned back to the table, and looked around. “Uh. Crap. Lost him.”

The Pooka muttered something to the effect of “How do you lose a house-size croc”, and began scanning the layout on the table half-frantically.

“I’ve got faster. Wind!” Jack moved over to the windows, and threw them wide open. “Wind, I need you!”

A deafening shriek made everyone cringe, and then there was a single talon latching on to the windowsill. Giant wings buffeted the air and side of the Fortress, while an eye only a little smaller than Jack’s _head_ blinked down at him.

“Did you grow?” He shook his head. “Never mind. Wind, I need you to find the giant crocodile that’d been with the forces. He’s huge, almost as big as you are. And I need to know fast!”

The Wind made an odd, chittering sound, and clacked her beak. Then she shoved away from the wall and began flying over the battlefield, absentmindedly snapping the odd projectile out of the air.

“... did she get bigger? I swear she was only a few heads taller than me last time I looked,” Aster asked after a moment, shivering.

“She probably ate someone.” Jack moved back to the table, only mildly amused to see a frost-shape, the Wind, flying over the battlefield.

“.. right.” The Pooka shuddered before turning back to the table. “So. Over here, on the ‘north’ side - seriously, they’re all ‘north’ sides, who marked this out? - I see that the trebuchets have been destroyed, along with the other siege equipment there. Good. The ‘west’ side is much the same, though the ‘east’ is having difficulty. I’d suggest you pull forces from the north side to the east-”

“Or I could send a few more Jotun out onto the field. There’s fifty of them still throwing boulders from the walls, I’m sure some of them wouldn’t mind a possible gory death. Or gloriously gory death.”

“Ah. Good. Yes, send at least a half-dozen, that should be sufficient,” Aster murmured, and then hummed thoughtfully.

“Right.” Jack turned to one of the ravens. “Have Nál dispatch six of her most annoying warriors, won’t you? No need to deprive her of the ones she likes.”

The raven blinked. “You think she _likes_ any of them?”

“Just go.”

His boyfriend was still humming intermittently to himself. “Aster?”

The Pooka twitched and glanced over at Jack, eyes refocusing slowly. “Wot? Oh, right. Sorry. I was considering our next move. The flanks and rear are taken care of, for now, but the force at the ‘south’ side of the battlefield is nearly undamaged.”

Jack nodded.

“Look, here,” Aster said, pointing at one cluster of red siege engines. “There’s something going on there, but I can’t quite make it out in the mist. Is there a window facing that way, or do I have to head back up?”

“Ah… you want a window?” Jack looked to the ‘south’ wall, which was, unfortunately, solid. For the moment. “Sure, just a sec.”

A few blows with his staff opened a basic hole in the wall, roughly circular. Jack peeked out, wrinkled his nose, and looked back at Aster.

“... thanks. I think,” Aster said, shivering at the cold wind that blew in. “I’ll just poke my head out and take a peak.”

He grabbed the binocular-thingys and half-crawled through the hole, giving Jack a lovely view of his ass. Jack grabbed the back of Aster’s belt, and gave a light tug.

“Got you,” he told the Pooka. “Don’t slip!”

One paw reached blindly backward and felt around for a moment, before patting Jack on the arm and giving him a thumbs up. Well, Aster hadn’t know that gesture beforehand, so he gave himself kudos for teaching Aster yet another Jack-ism.

After about a minute of this, the Pooka indicated he wanted to come back in. Jack yanked hard, once, on the belt and found himself with an armful of fluffy, chilled Pooka. Who was also very surprised, if that wide-eyed expression meant anything.

He blinked several times at Jack before dropping a quick kiss on his forehead and stepping to the side, towards the table.

“Bad news. They’re constructing belfries.” He pointed at the cluster.

Jack frowned. “For… bats?” He held his hands up in front of his chest, thumbs hooked together, and flapped his fingers as the wings.

Aster gazed at him for a long moment, and then sighed. “No, Jack. Where’d I put that…” he felt around in his pockets. “Ah!”

Aster pulled out a small sketchpad and pencil and quickly drew Jack a picture. Literally.

“Of course you’d have one of those,” Jack muttered. “Artists. So what is it?”

The Pooka did - something - with his hands and suddenly Jack found a paper airplane in his hair.

“No complaining,” Aster said, a shadow of a smirk ghosting across his face. “That is a belfry.”

Jack pulled the airplane out of his hair - honestly, how had Bunny folded that so _fast_? - and opened it. “It… looks like a tower. On wheels. A… mobile home for bats?”

Aster dropped his head into the palm of one paw and sighed heavily. “ _No_ , Jack. For scaling walls. They’ll fill in a section of moat and push that up against the wall to let their troops over the top.”

A thundering crash echoed up from below. Aster glanced through the hole in the wall and did a double take.

“And that would be them filling a section of moat on the eastern side of the bailey.”

He poked his head out again and looked through the spyglass-thingy.

“They’re wood… wood…” Aster muttered, pulling back inside, before abruptly turning to look at Jack, wide-eyed. “Jack!”

“What? Wait, what?” Jack moved to the window and tried shoving him aside. “What the _hell_?”

“Jack! The belfries are made of wood! Send Kern!”

Kern. Right. Jack didn’t even have to say a word; one of the ravens was already on it. “What can Kern do?” he asked. “Tell me you’ve got a plan.”

“Hasn’t he ever shown you what he can do with a tree? _Make it grow_.”

Jack blinked, and looked back at the belfries. “Oh,” he said, and grinned. “That’s a good plan. Let’s do that. And then I’ll point Loki at them. He’s a fan of fire, no idea why.”

Aster chuckled and nodded. “You’re getting better at this. We’ll make a strategist out of you yet.”

Several minutes passed as they watched the belfries approaching the wall, worry slowly twisting Jack’s guts. What if Kern didn’t get there in time? What if he got hurt?

What if he _died?_

Aster cuffed him upside the back of the head. “Oi, stop that. I can hear your worrying from across the room.”

“You’re not across the room!” Jack didn’t look away from the belfries.

“I was five seconds ago. Jack, _calm down_. Kern’ll be alright.”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Kern chose that moment to attack.

Oh. _Oooh_.

He’d had some idea of what Bunny’d meant, but that was just… wow. The belfries sprouted roots and branches simply _everywhere_ , pushing a few spirits out of them here and there, but mostly, it seemed, trapping them inside. As well, the wheels rooted themselves to the ice and snow - not the best footing for roots, but sufficient to stop their forward momentum - and then Loki started spewing fire at the trapped towers.

“How pretty,” one of the snow maidens commented offhandedly.

Jack eyed her side-long. Spirits were dying in that conflagration and she thought it was pretty? He rolled his eyes. Snow maidens.

The Wind screeched, audible even at this distance, and dove down at the fires. She snatched at something, wreathed in smoke, but either missed or was driven off. She screeched again and flew up towards the new hole at the wall.

“The Wind went looking for the crocodile guy,” Jack murmured. “Guess she found him.”

He stepped up onto the rough ledge, and grinned. Finally. He could do what he had been trained for. “Keep everything steady, this shouldn’t take too long,” he said, back over his shoulder, and then jumped out into the air.

“Jack!” Aster called after him, to no avail. He thought he heard Aster curse, but that could have been his imagination.

Who was he kidding? Of course Aster cursed, the foul-mouthed rabbit that he was. Jack loved him for it though.

The Wind flew up towards him, eyes gleaming. She twisted midair, and he landed, crouched between her shoulderblades. He knelt there, secure with a handful of feathers.

Jack grinned, and the Wind made a nasty chortle.

Then, without further fanfare, she folded her wings and dove down into the smoke.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaysurin's Commentary: *evil cackling*
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Hee. Sieges are fun."


	29. Chapter 29

**Friday, 28 June 2013 -- Fortress, South Pole, Antarctica, midday**

“Damn it, Jack!” Aster shouted as he watched his mate fly off to do battle with the giant crocodile spirit.

“Um, Mr. Bunnymund, did he just…?” one of the raven’s piped up after a short, weighted silence.

“Yeah,” he snarled, and shoved away from the wall. “He did.” And left him in charge of the entire freaking Fortress! El-Ahrairah preserve him, why did he have to go and fall for such a - a - _idiot_! “Alright. So. Jack’s going to need some support, and there’s still a few siege weapons off to the side. And that one wall is in danger of collapsing again…”

He studied the map, dismissing his anger and worry for the moment so he could focus.

“Got it. You - whatever your name is -”

“Cadfan, sir,” replied the raven who’d spoken up a moment ago.

He paused with his mouth agape, one finger in the air, and stared at Cadfan, dumbfounded. “... your name means ‘ battle raven’.”

“Aye, sir.”

Aster shook his head at the insanity around him; trust WINTER to find the nutjobs who named themselves what they _are_. “Nevermind. Right. You go down to Nál, have her send her warriors out to play ten pins with the siege weapons out there. And you,” he turned, pointing at another raven. “You get down to Weyland and have him or one of his people look at that wall!”

The first raven - Cadfan, he reminded himself - saluted and ran out of the room. The second one, though, turned to gaze at him harshly.

“What gives you the right to order us around? You’re just a Charge.”

It was going to be like that, was it?

Aster raised one eyebrow, and smirked. The second raven paused; this time, Aster had deliberately used Jack’s facial expressions. Said usage did what he wanted, and put the raven on the wrong foot.

“Just?” he said, and then crossed the room in three long strides. “ _Just_? What’s your name, soldier?” he barked, in his best impression of General Flowerdew the Long-Eared.

“K-Kangee, sir!” Intimidated. Good.

_Another raven named ‘raven’? The hell was wrong with these people?_ But what he said was, “Well, Kangee, I am E. Aster Bunnymund, Guardian of Children, of Hope, of the Last Light of the Pooka. Decorated with enough medals and ribbons to sink a boat, from more wars than you could ever know about. I’ve been a soldier since before this world’s star was ignited and I -” He grabbed a hold of the raven’s neck, firmly but without choking, “- am here right now. Jack is not. As General Frostbite’s consort, I think that puts me just a bit higher up the hierarchy than you, am I right?”

Kangee nodded fiercely. Aster noted that a few of the others were snickering at his predicament.

“Gonna argue my orders, Kangee?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Gonna do as I asked, Kangee?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Aster released the raven. “Now?”

“Yes sir!”

Kangee was gone faster than you could say ‘run’.

Several other agents laughed openly in his wake.

“Any other orders, sir?” a kitsune asked a few moments after Kangee left.

“Let’s take a look…” Aster glanced out the ‘window’ as he moved over to the table. Jack would be okay. Winter spirit versus a crocodile. No contest, right?

He focused on the table, because that was better than fretting. He zoomed out, rolling the little ball control Jack had used earlier, to get a better look at the battlefield, and nodded at the sight of Jotun charging the siege engines.

Good. That should finish off the last of them. Now to address the damage to the wall-

_Hello._

Aster paused in turning away from the table. He’d caught motion out of the corner of his eye near the edge of the map. Fiddling with the controls, he zoomed in on the region. It took a couple minutes of scanning, but he found it.

A tent. With a few guards. Hidden behind an outcropping of ice and rock.

There was an odd sort of interference in the image quality in that region too.

“I found it!” he exclaimed.

All at once, there was a crowd of young agents around the table, peering at the tent. He ignored their chatter - apparently one of them was analyzing the possible material of the tent, of all things - and began to smile.

“Alright. Who’s the highest ranking agent here?”

“Um… we’re all Shepherds, sir.”

Aster growled. “Damn it. Are there any Knights free?”

“Ah…” One of the kitsune reached over, and fiddled with the controls. “Kern.”

_Of course_. Aster suppressed an eyeroll. “Call him up. I’ll explain when he gets here.”

The kitsune nodded and fiddle with a few dials and switches. “He’s on his way sir.”

Aster nodded and studied the terrain around the tent while he waited. It took Kern several minutes to arrive - probably the small force of enemy troops that had managed to break through the damaged wall - damn it - but he eventually arrived. And just in time, too.

“What is it, Bunnymund? Where’s Jack?”

“Off playing hero, I’d guess. You’re in charge.” Aster grinned at Kern’s shocked expression. “I’ve got to go steal me something pretty.”

Kern glanced at the table and his eyes widened. “You found the jamming device?”

“Like I said.” He double-tapped a rabbit hole open. “I’ve got to go steal me something pretty.”

And then he dropped in, grinning despite himself.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


The Wind screeched, and folded her wings. Jack’s stomach was left behind at the start of free fall. The smoke stung his eyes and made it nigh impossible to see the length of his arm, let alone further.

It was wonderful.

Something large and blocky loomed through the fog. Wind banked around it, spread her wings to hover briefly, and then dropped like a stone. Unlike a real bird, she didn’t break her legs when she hit the ice with bruising force. She snapped her beak at something small - compared to her - and scuttling, and screamed again.

“Thanks, Wind!” Jack jumped down, and spun his staff in one hand. “Don’t eat anyone on our side.”

She screamed again, and flew up into the air, to keep an eye on things from above.

“Okay, Handbag, where’d you go…?”

The ground rumbled as a large something charged at him from the side.

And then it roared.

_Ow._

Jack laughed, all the same, and swept hand and staff in a semi-circle. A slick ramp of ice formed as though from the air itself, between him and the roaring beast.

The problem with something large - inertia and momentum.

The giant crocodile-creature came thundering out of the fog and smoke and right up the ramp, flying over Jack’s head to crash into the damaged section of the wall, which cracked. Loudly.

Oops.

It stood back up a moment later and shook itself, before turning and roaring again.

“Y’know, Handbag, you might want to try words.” Jack grinned, and made a ‘ta-da’ gesture. “See how easy they are?”

The croc growled, “I’ll enjoy eating your liver and grinding your bones.”

“Oooh, oooh, I know this one!” He bounced on his toes. “But I’m no Englishman, so the bread probably won’t taste good.”

The glare of the croc could have scared a lesser man, but Jack just laughed it off. His laugh cut off abruptly when the creature grabbed a large column of icy stone from the wall and ran at him with it, like a club.

A club the size of a _car_.

_Yeah, okay, no getting hit by that, Jack_ … he dove to the side, but really needn’t have bothered. The Wind swooped out of the smoke, and caught the club and pulled. The crocodile was jerked to the side, and then the Wind flew away with the column in her claws. It looked like a medium-sized tree branch, that way.

“Uh,” Jack said, and raised one finger. “You saw that too, right?”

The croc roared again and turned the momentum of the spin Wind had forced on him with her twisting grab into a tail slap.

With a tail like a tree. Jack failed to dodge fully, caught off-guard because he was too busy running his mouth. He went flying and tumbled across the debris strewn courtyard, coming to rest against a fragment of stone and ice in the middle of the bailey.

_Double ow._

The croc roared and charged again.

Not good.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Aster opened a hole and poked his ears out. They flicked back and forth several times, but nothing sounded off, so he peeked over the edge.

Good.

The guards were all outside.

He hopped out of the hole and let it close for the moment; no reason to let anyone fall in accidentally. He turned to examine the device.

Ah.

How… amusing.

It was egg-shaped. And sat upon a pedestal like some sort of rare work of art. Almost like a Faberge egg, if not for it being half the size of the huge television Weyland had installed at the burrow.

He circled it several times, looking for tripwires, hints of magic, anything that would react badly to the device being moved. Surprisingly enough, there wasn’t anything that he could see, even after he pulled out his scanning device - mentally snickering at the memory of Jack calling it a ‘tricorder’ - and ran it over the device, the stand, and the ground around it, several times.

Still nothing.

Really? That easy? He wasn’t going to complain…

_Daft bastards, the lot of them_.

Carefully placing his footpaw at the edge of the pedestal, he quickly double-tapped. A hole opened and it dropped right in, almost soundlessly.

A rustling came from the tent flap.

Heh. Almost.

Aster saluted the soldiers that peered in a moment before he too dropped into the hole, a huge shit-eating grin gracing his features.

“Thanks for the awesome guard job, mates! Ta!”

  
  


  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“You know, Handbag -” Duck, roll backwards, come up swinging the crook of his staff into the crocodile’s knee. “- You’re not being very friendly. Like. At all.”

Another dodge, this time to the side. Grab-twist-pull air down, shield eyes from the resulting spray of falling icicles shattering on scaley hide.

The crocodile roared, this time in pain, and staggered back a full step and a half. Jack grinned, uncovered his eyes, and blew at the crocodile, like he was trying to cool off soup.

It was Antarctica. There wasn’t much moisture in the air; but what was there, froze all at once. Mostly on the crocodile.

Who… wasn’t affected. Damn, he’d figured that would work.

The creature froze for a long few seconds, and then the cords in its neck and arms bulged and the ice shattered, raining down on the ground like so much tinkling glass.

“Not cool, Handbag. Not cool.”

The croc took a swipe at his head; Jack ducked - right into another tail slap.

_Oh god damn it_ , he whined to himself as he went flying through the air again. _Not cool at_ all.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“- get that team over to the damaged wall, now!” Kern was yelling when Aster’s hole opened up again.

He glanced at the clock on the wall as he hopped out, followed by one of his Sentinels carrying the device on it’s pedestal. He’d only been gone two minutes.

Excellent.

Kern turned and half-jumped. “You’re back _already_?”

“No, this is an illusion. Of _course_ I am. I need to take a look at this, someone give me a space with good light.”

One of the agents moved several chairs out of the way and another hopped up to remove the cover on one of the ceiling lights, adjusting it so it beamed down brightly in a halo around the cleared area. Perfect.

“Alright. Give me a few to figure this thing out and get it turned off.”

He began examining the device even as Kern started shouting at the Shepherds to get back to work. He hummed to himself.

Kern stepped up to his side, still watching the other agents. “What is it?”

“It’s more complicated than I expected. This is no mere enchantment; it’s tied to the mechanics of the device. Very impressive.”

“I don’t like ‘impressive’. Not when it comes to things fighting _us_. Can you stop it?”

Aster grunted. “‘Impressive’ don’t mean I can’t break it, drongo. Now, where’d I put that tool kit….” He patted himself down and let out a pleased grunt when he found his tool roll. “Give me some space and a few moments.”

Kern nodded and stepped back. Aster fiddled with the odd locking mechanism - ‘odd’ only in that it was so badly constructed, as he discovered when he got the cover off. Given the nature of the tied enchantments, the locking mechanism was surprisingly shitty.

He aligned the tools properly once he sorted out the alignment of the pins and, with a quick twist and flick of his wrists, the locking mechanism released. A hissing sound followed right after as pressure released and the mechanism fell open.

Huh.

That explained a lot.

“It’s an enchanted stone. Easy fix. Kern, make me a club.”

“What?”

“A club,” Aster repeated. “Are your ears still working? Going senile? _Club_. A big one.”

“Uh… right.” Kern flicked his hand out in front of him and a good-sized club just _appeared._ “This good?”

It was wood, of course… “Petrify it, if you can? Gonna be under a bit of abuse.”

Kern frowned, but flicked his other fingers over the surface. It swiftly aged and hardened as Aster watched. “Better?”

“Yes. Give it here,” Aster said, taking the club and hefting it to test the weight. Good.

“What are you doing with it?”

“Percussive maintenance.”

And Aster, with a moment to aim, took a hard swing at the stone. It shattered in one blow.

The room lit up with lights across all the consoles.

“The comms are back online!”

“And the warming spell should be off,” Aster said, and gave Kern the club back. “Thanks.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack didn’t make the rookie mistake of looking back over his shoulder. Rule number one - no, rule number two, rule number one involved keeping fit - of running for one’s life, was to _never look back._ That was the moment when you stumbled. Or slowed down.

Or got blindsided by a great big red wolf chasing a bunch of fire sprites.

“Fenrir!” Jack ducked under one furry belly, and poured on more speed.

And then his ear lit up in a world of pain that turned out to be massive amounts of static.

He pulled the earbud out and threw it to the side.

“Stupid thing. Weyland oughta break the lot of you.”

_Waaaaaait a moment there Jackie…_ Static. Communications were back up.

He grinned, and spun to face the croc-monster.

Not only was Handbag slowing down and staggering, it looked confused. “Aw, was this not supposed to happen? Poor baby.”

The giant crocodile growled darkly and slipped on the ice, sliding to one side and losing some momentum.

“Awww, too cold for you? _Let me make it worse_!”

Jack made an obscure hand gesture, and a gale force wind edged with sleet suddenly roared to life. It blew past him, barely ruffling his hair, and slammed full force into the crocodile. Ice began building up on the beast’s scales, and unlike the last time that’d happened, it had a noticeable and immediate effect.

In that the crocodile shuddered once, its eyes glazed over, and it toppled onto its side.

And shattered.

Oops. _Might_ have put a bit too much cold in that.

Jack eyed the bits of croc scattered around the courtyard. Some of them looked like organ-bits.

_Eww._

“Wind!” he called and hopped aboard when she flew past. “Back up to the command center!”

Jack glanced over the battlefield and was pleased to see the enemy in full rout. Sure, the lower bailey was trashed, but they hadn’t more than nicked the Fortress proper.

“Go team,” he murmured happily as they pulled up to the ‘window’ he’d made earlier.

“Jack!” came Aster’s shout as he returned.

“Hey, Longears. Miss me- urk!”

Jack’s reply was cut off abruptly as he was engulfed in a crushing hug.

“... air!” he managed to gasp after a moment.

Aster let up on the pressure, but didn’t let Jack step away. “Sorry, mate. Was worried ‘bout ya.”

“Why?” Okay, so his ribs were bruised in too many places to count - actually, ow, okay, maybe a crack or two, damn that hug actually _hurt_ \- and his back kind of hurt a little, and it was a really good thing he had his armor, but why? “I had it all under control.”

Aster quirked an eyebrow at him doubtfully. “Uh huh. What happened to being the big general? Telling people what to do, not doing it yourself?”

“Hey, you were here, it was perfectly okay for me to go have a bit of fun, too. I mean, c’mon, Bunny… it all worked out.” Jack grinned, and looked around. The agents remaining looked quietly impressed, Kern - Kern? - was grinning about something, and there were… eh, rocks?

“Bunny? Rocks?”

“I stole their jamming device.”

“Cool. But… rocks?”

“Percussive maintenance.” Aster’s grin had a feral sharpness to it.

“They… made their jamming device out of a bunch of rocks?” He reached up and began massaging his forehead.

“Enchanted, yes. Creative, if crude.” Aster shrugged. “Simple enough to disarm.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He paused, and began to grin again. “Y’know, I think we just found one of Apedemak’s weaknesses…”

“How so?” Aster asked, cocking his head to the side inquiringly.

Jack began to snicker. “He’s a moron. There’s mortal stuff that could’ve done the same - worse, in fact - that he could’ve enchanted. But no. He used a rock. And probably a lot more power to achieve the same results.”

Kern laughed openly at that. Aster chuckled himself.

“Good point, Frostbite.”

“In fact, it gives me an idea…”

Aster eyed him. “You’re more than welcome to tell me - _after_ I get you to the hospital wing.”

“Fine, fine… while you do that, I’ll leave you with this to think about. C4. Lots of it.” He chuckled again, and then winced when his ribs protested. “Ah, you said something about the hospital wing?”

He abruptly found himself being carried by his boyfriend, despite the indignant noises he was making, or the snickering of the other agents. He could _feel_ the blush forming across his cheeks.

“Aster!” he whined and hid his face against the Pooka’s shoulder.

Bunny just purred at him softly.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Friday, 28 June 2013 -- Fortress, South Pole, Antarctica, late afternoon**

“You completely embarrassed me, doing that,” Jack murmured. He held Aster’s hand in both of his, feeling a little like a school girl skipping along beside her first boyfriend. “Also, I can’t believe Weyland made this stuff so even the healers can’t get me out without his help!”

He tugged at the collar, and frowned. “And then put me back in before we could make out!”

Aster nodded seriously, as if that was the greater injustice. “I’m going to have words with that man, when this is all over. While you’re dead sexy in that armor, _I need to be able to take it off_.”

“My skin needs to breathe,” Jack muttered. “Forget sex, much longer and I’m going to be swimming in sweat.”

“Cleaning charms,” Aster reminded him.

“Hyperbole.”

“Fact. I can smell them. Not you. More’s the pity.”

They rounded a corner and Jack just… stopped. Aster blinked.

“Huh,” he said.

“My… my office! My - where’s the _door_?” Jack let go of Aster’s hand, and gestured madly at the pile of rubble as he took an involuntary few steps forward.

“Where’s the _wall…_?” he heard the Pooka mutter behind him.

Weyland poked his head out of the destroyed office at their voices and grinned. “Ah. Hello Jack. Seems this wing took a pretty nasty beating before the trebuchets were destroyed. Looks like I’ll get to renovate after all!”

“Don’t you dare!” Jack planted his staff, and glared. “Doom will fall upon you if you make any changes to my office, Weyland! Doom!”

“... so that’s a no to the ensuite? And the bedroom?”

Jack hushed Aster before he could speak up. “Office. Good place for nookie, not good place to live. No bed.”

“Bathroom?”

“We’re _spirits_ ,” Jack pointed out.

Weyland pouted. “Double the square footage?”

“Then people would visit. All the time. And there would be no nookie.” Jack folded his arms. “And I’m going to want my files back, too!”

“... extra hundred square feet, for… storage?”

“Weyland, you can get rid of that crack in the ceiling, and that’s it. No touchy anything else.”

He heard a few muttered Norse curses as Weyland’s head disappeared around the corner. It was only then that he noticed the quiet snickering behind him. When he turned to look, Aster fell apart - probably at the cross look on his face - and started laughing outright. He even leaned against the wall for support so he could hold his stomach, he was laughing so hard.

“What?”

“Just - you! -” Aster gasped between fits. “Nookie!”

Jack leaned back against his staff, as though it were a wall. “Y’know, we don’t have to stay here overnight. Odin’s got watch. We could always go back to the Warren to sleep…”

Aster’s laughter cut off abruptly as he frowned. And then yelled down the hall, “Weyland! Get that armor off him!”

“No hablo englaise, senior!”

“That’s the worst accent I’ve ever heard, you galah! Get out here and get the armor off him now!”

“Wakarimasen!”

Jack rolled his eyes, and caught Aster by the elbow. “You know, I meant _sleep_ , Cottontail… nothing more until my ribs heal up.”

Jack gently led his boyfriend away from the hallway. Aster pouted the entire way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "The Wind needs to stop eating people, Jack needs to stop snarking at his opponents, and Bunny... relax. You'll get to play with Jack's nether bits soon enough, but fighting comes first. At least it won't be a twenty-year war."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Nah, more like a Few-Day War. [Six](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six-Day_War), tops. (random history lesson is random)"


	30. Chapter 30

**Saturday, 29 June 2013 -- Fortress, South Pole, Antarctica, morning**

“This is stupid,” Jack snapped. “They’re just ribs. I’ve fought with a lot worse!”

Aster sighed in exasperation. “That was before you were with me.”

Kern nodded. “I agree with the rabbit.”

“Go back to following my orders,” Jack said, pointing at Kern. “You were more fun when you did that.”

The cervid smirked and glanced at the Pooka. “Where’s the fun in _that_?”

“Uh, not having to take over the empty janitors’ spots and cleaning all the bathrooms?” Jack mused.

“Odin’ll back us up, and you know it,” Aster noted offhandedly. “Besides, we’re just acting support while the others handle the other battles around the globe.”

“Yeah, that’s the point. And Odin’s an old nanny goat. My ribs are _fine_ ,” Jack said, and flung his arms out. His ribs chose that moment to twinge - okay, throb like a rotten tooth - but he barely flinched.

The Wind looked at him in askance over Aster’s shoulder.

“You can stop looking at me like that,” he told her. “And stop standing behind Bunny, you know he doesn’t like it.”

Aster stiffened - apparently, he’d not noticed her until just then - but the Wind just sat down on her haunches and grinned. Well, ‘grinned’ as much as a bird could.

“She’s behind me?” he squawked. Before Jack could answer, the Wind puffed air at the top of his head.

Aster jumped.

Jack laughed and got a dirty look from his boyfriend for his efforts. He resolutely ignored the twinge in his ribs while he laughed too - totally worth it.

“Aw, c’mon Aster, you know she likes you. She only stalks people she likes.” People she disliked apparently got eaten, now. He really needed to put her on a diet. “But still. Wind, you want to be out there, right? Fighting the good fight? Driving off those intruders? Getting the people who’d tormented those other wind spirits? Eating Apedemak?”

Her eyes lit up at the last statement, but she shook her head and looked at him pointedly.

“See? Even your pet agrees with us!” Kern said, grinning triumphantly.

“You’re no fun,” Jack muttered. “Fine. Fine! Go away! I need to sulk in peace!” He waved his hands as though he was shooing away sheep.

Kern wandered off, chuckling, the bastard, and the Wind lumbered away to a nearby window to go - hunting, probably - but Aster ignored his dismissal and knelt down next to the couch Jack was reclining on in the side room they’d deposited him in.

“What?” he asked, grumpy as only a warrior denied a fun battle could be.

Aster kissed him.

Oh.

Jack leaned into the kiss, and hummed his appreciation. “You can keep doing that,” he murmured, when their lips parted. Breathing, what a useless activity. “I might even cheer up if you do.”

Aster gave him a long once-over. “How I wish that armor could come off right now. Then I’d _really_ try to cheer you up.”

“Well, we could do stuff with the armor on,” Jack suggested, exaggerating his leer only a little. “I mean, it _is_ self-cleaning. As you so often remind me.”

The Pooka grinned and returned to kissing him, more heatedly than a moment ago. But just as his paws started to wander-

“Jack!”

Jack pulled back from the kiss. “Damn it Kern!”

“We’re getting inbound messages from the other regents,” the Old God said, looking grim. “They’re not good.”

Aster muttered something that sounded uncomplimentary in a language Jack didn’t know. He then stood and picked Jack up in one smooth motion.

“Hey!”

“I’m taking you to the command center.”

“I can _walk_ , Cottontail.”

“This way I get to touch you a bit longer.” Aster quirked an eyebrow at him in a silent plea.

Jack quirked an eyebrow back. “You’re doing my facial expressions again,” he said, and settled against Aster’s chest. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You know you love it.” He grinned cockily. “And I know.”

“What, no denials? No ‘I’m a big, bad-ass warrior, I’m not cute’? Really? What’ve you done with my consort, you faker?” Jack asked, amused and starting to chuckle.

They were walking down the hallway now. “He’s turned into a doting mate for the duration of your injuries. The snarky badass warrior will return when you can take a punch without breaking another rib.”

Kern was snickering quietly off to the side, the traitor. Jack smiled nicely at him. “Kern, do you _really_ want to be turned into a toilet scrub brush?”

He held up his hands in silent surrender and ran ahead. Aster chuckled. Jack pouted the rest of the way to the command center.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Aster set Jack down just outside the Command Center’s doors, and followed after his mate to a room teaming with… well. Young agents.

“Baby agents,” Jack muttered, loud enough for leoprid ears to hear, but not much else. “Alright, my minions,” he said, louder. “What’ve you got for me?”

“Sir! Uh… reports from the other regents are saying that all three battles keep receiving reinforcements from portals at the rear of the battlefields.” One raven Shepherd informed him.

“They can’t get close enough to disrupt the magic! What should we do?” Another piped up - a kitsune.

Jack’s lips parted, and his eyes widened, before a mischievous smirk curved his mouth up at the corners.

Baby agents they might be, that didn’t mean they were stupid. A full baker’s dozen of Agents shrank down in their seats, looking worried. They knew his reputation too well.

“Jack…” Aster began warningly.

Heh. He knew that look better than anyone.

“Why, we give Apedemak a headache, of course,” he said, turning to look up at his mate. “I promise not to fight,” he added, looking seraphic.

Aster squinted at him for a long moment. “... fine. What’s this grand plan of yours then, _general_?”

“Go cut his head off?” Jack suggested. “Drop a boulder on him? Feed him to the Wind? Or… y’know, I think Nál knows Fafnir, maybe we can send a dragon at Apedemak… That could be fun.”

Aster hummed. “... how’s the Fortress?” He turned to one of the nearby baby agents. “Status report.”

“Ah…” The agent glanced at Jack before answering. “The forward bailey has been shored up, but it’s still at… under seventy-five percent. Um. I mean it _is_ at seventy-five percent, and we don’t have anyone left to fix it?” he squeaked, hunching over.

Aster visibly suppressed a sigh and placed a paw gently on the agent’s shoulder, squatting down to look him directly in the eye. “That’s fine. How about the castle itself?”

“Oh. You mean the _fortress_. Um, mostly cosmetic damage, though the front gate had to be frozen closed. It was hanging on its hinges when the fighting stopped. And all of the senior agents level three and over, um, aren’t here. Except for yourselves. I mean, uh, Agents Frostbite and Kernunnos. Sir.”

Aster hummed and glanced at another agent nearby, patting the first on the shoulder lightly. “Any other knights around?”

“Nál?” the agent suggested.

“Ah. She’s still here?” he noted. “Any Jotun?”

“There hasn’t been a feast yet,” Jack muttered. “And all surviving Jotun are also here. They’re not about to be cheated out of dinner, even if they were cheated out of dying.”

Aster turned to look at Jack fully and grinned savagely. “How about we give them another go at that then?”

“Yes!” Jack fist-pumped, and then went still in a way that meant he was holding back a flinch, wince, or other display of pain. “Alright minions, get this pile of ice into the air. We’re going to Africa!”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Saturday, 29 June 2013 -- Fortress, Somewhere near Meroë, Sudan, midday**

“Alright, pets,” Jack said, rubbing his hands together. “Raijin, take bags one and two, and go east. Izanami, bags three and four, go west. Remember, don’t start the timers until after you’ve met up on the other side.”

The two kitsune nodded, clutching the remote detonators close and shouldering the bags of C4. They disappeared a moment later, veiling themselves with their illusions as they took off in opposite directions.

“Think they’ll be alright?” Aster asked, concern coloring his voice.

Jack elbowed him in the side. “They’re _my_ shepherds,” he pointed out. “All those years, did you ever see hide nor hair of them? They’re experts in skulking about, even for kitsune.”

Aster nodded, but still glanced worriedly after the kits.

“Keep this up, and I’ll tell Kern you’ve had a change of heart about him,” Jack muttered, grinning.

“What?” Aster sputtered. “I most certainly have not! It’s just… they’re so young, and… kits. I mean, uh-”

“Sure, Cottontail,” Jack said, grinning. “Sure. Okay. So, battle plans. No humans in the compound, they’re all over at the temple in… that corner,” he said, pointing towards the horizon. “So we can let ‘er rip with the fireworks, at least until the mortals notice and come running.”

Aster nodded, turning his gaze to the strategy table and examining the layout of the region. “I’m sure that’ll get his attention. The worst thing you can do to him is damage his toys. Always worked before.”

“Right. And then…” Jack gestured to Nál. “Think you can get your boys to attack from this direction?” he asked, pointing at the back side of the temple. “That’s where he keeps his lesser spirits, when they’re not fighting for him. We don’t know how many he’s got left…”

The Jotun queen smirked. “Mine warriors will enjoy the challenge. Mayhap I will even lose a score or two, they have complained most bitterly to me of the lack of funerals.”

Aster snorted. “Right. So…” he trailed off, considering the table. He reached out and tapped a spot near the temple. “My instincts tell me Apedemak is around here.”

“Right, so that’s where we’ll focus. Take him out, the rest of the movement should collapse.” Jack pointed to Kern. “You come in from this side. Aster, you come in from the opposite direction. Wind will come down from above; either he’ll be herded over here,” he said, pointing at the final side, “or he’ll stand his ground to fight. Either way, he’ll be surrounded, without reinforcements coming.”

“... should work, knowing the bastard. He refuses to retreat, even when he’s lost,” Aster muttered. “One thing is bothering me though.”

“What thing?” Jack asked, studying the final direction, where Apedemak would either retreat or an avenue of attack, depending… _Behind these boulders, maybe. They’re certainly big enough._

“He’s been displaying some different tactics this time around. New abilities too; certainly, he wasn’t that physically strong the last time I fought him. We need to be prepared for him to pull a surprise out of his arse.”

“We’ll just have to surprise him ourselves, but from our heads, not our butts,” Jack replied. “Don’t worry. He’s not the only one who can learn new tricks, and we pride ourselves on our creativity here at WINTER headquarters.”

“Is that what it’s called?” Kern muttered. “Deranged lunacy, more like.”

Aster hummed, and then turned to a baby agent, writing something on a slip of paper and passing it to them. The raven examined the page, nodded, and left. He then turned back to gazing at the map without another word.

“What was that about?” Jack asked, and poked Aster when he didn’t immediately answer.

“Insurance.”

“We don’t have a car, Fluffy.”

Aster waved him off and continued studying the map.

Kern was eyeing him.

“What?” Jack exclaimed defensively.

Kern raised his eyebrows. “Just wondering where you’ll be. With the Wind?”

Aster glanced up and favored Jack with a long, considering look. “He’d better be away from the front lines, is where. Here would be nice.”

“I’m your secret weapon,” Jack said easily. “I’ll stay back, but if things start getting out of hand…” He lifted one hand, and flexed his fingers. Ice coated his hand at the gesture, forming and settling into a set of claws.

Aster grumbled and muttered something unpleasant-sounding under his breath, but what he said was, “Fine. But _only_ if things go badly. I don’t want to have to wait any longer than we have to for you to heal. Or for you to get hurt even worse.”

Jack rolled his eyes, and kept a few annoyed words behind his teeth. Just not all of them. “Stop worrying, ya old goat. I’ll be fine. He won't surprise me again.”

Aster cocked an eyebrow at him doubtfully, but turned back to the map table before he could come up with any sort of retort.

Jack huffed, but before he could say anything else, the battlefield exploded.

Literally.

“If those idiots set the explosives off early,” Jack muttered, waving Nál away to her warriors, “I’m turning them into rugs.”

Aster glanced at the clock, and then at the clipboard he was carrying. “A bit. Trouble?”

“Only if they did it from boredom. Let’s go.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Aster and Kern hopped out of the hole in the ground near where he’d guessed their adversary would have made his camp. He was not disappointed.

Unfortunately, there was more than just Apedemak there. Several ‘living’ willy-willies were also in attendance, along with a couple large Jackals. Kern looked at him in askance when he called them that.

“They’re called _fasset el ‘afreet_ here. Dust devils, as Jack would say.”

“What, you’d rather I was respectful?” Aster pulled a handful of grenades out of his bandolier. “Deal with the Jackals, ya gobdaw, and hurry up about it.”

Kern shrugged, and dashed around the dune they were hidden behind, shouting a battlecry and charging the nearest jackal. He hit it at a full run, head-down and fully-upon his horns. He gave a sharp jerk of his neck upwards the moment he collided with it and sent it flying, it’s pained cry cutting off abruptly when it struck a nearby ruined wall. It did not get back up. The cervidae then whirled on the second jackal, arming himself with his shield-and-spear, deflecting a blow as he did so.

Aster grinned at the carnage, and then turned towards the nearest willy-willy. “Alright, y’ bag of wind,” he said, and tossed one of his grenades into the air. The dust devil roared, sucking up sand to become more solid. He pretended to cower for a half-second, and then threw the grenade at the base of the whirlwind.

The grenade exploded, the willy-willy was scattered - unharmed, but disoriented and hungover - and the other willy-willies found reason to hesitate. Not that it helped them any. Maybe his part in things was less dramatic than Kern’s, but it was more amusing.

He dispatched the others, however temporarily, with a few more well-placed grenades - and similar results to the first - before Apedemak had the chance to fully turn around and see what was going on behind him.

“Bunnymund,” he growled darkly.

“Arsehole.” Aster pulled out a boomerang, and saluted the war god with it.

The lion-headed god glared, flexing arms even as he shifted to a battle stance. “You have meddled in my affairs for the last time.”

“Did ya go on a binge of bad movies?” Aster twirled the boomerang around in his hand, and realized he was trying to banter like Jack. Oh well, he wanted to anger Apedemak, and no one was better at ticking people off than his mate. “Because you just sounded like an idiot.”

Apedemak snarled wordlessly, and charged.

Aster dodged aside, and sent the boomerang whirling out on an oblique path that seemed to miss entirely. He pulled his knife next, instead of his second ‘rang, and skidded to a stop on the sand, digging his claws into the loose surface. “Old and slow,” he taunted. “Should’ve figured, y’ lazy arsewipe.”

He dodged several heavy swings of Apedemak’s claws, albeit barely in the case of the last, but then his boomerang returned and smacked the war god upside the back of the head. Apedemak snarled again, even as Aster rolled to the side and retrieved his ‘rang from where it had landed.

“That all you got?”

Apedemak took a step forward, and then paused when someone sneezed.

_Damn it, Jack._

Grinning ferally, the god picked up a nearby boulder and threw it at the one Jack was hiding behind.

“Jack!” Aster shouted, reflexively slipping a piece of chocolate out of his bandolier and straight into his mouth, shifting to six-arms as he ran to catch the large rock before it impacted against Jack’s hiding place.

He needn’t have bothered. Jack not only jumped out from behind his dubious shelter, he swung his staff like a baseball bat at the flying rock. Aster figured on the staff breaking. It didn’t.

Instead, the boulder shot back towards Apedemak, at speed and now covered in a rime of ice. It slammed into the war god with bruising force, pushing him back into a sand dune. Everything went quiet for a few long, long seconds-

And then the boulder shattered, blowing shards of rock everywhere. Aster dodged most of the fragments, though one nicked him above one eye, which started bleeding profusely, as facial injuries were wont to do. Superficial, but messy. Bloody wonderful.

Jack cried out though and Aster felt his heart seize. He spun on the spot and stared; his mate had a nine-inch shard of rock through the bicep of his left arm.

“Jack!” Aster shouted, before he was suddenly manhandled by a huge, four-armed lion god. From behind. “Get your paws off me!”

“Stop yelling my name and kick his ass, you idiot!” Jack lifted his staff in one hand, and aimed at Apedemak’s face. “And you! Stop touching my boyfriend!”

Aster managed to spin around and began grappling back. Six-arms versus four would normally be more than sufficient to give him the advantage, but Apedemak was _strong,_ and held his own with surprising aptitude.

The god growled, “Poor rabbit. Cannot defend yourself, or your mate. Don’t worry; I’ll give him a quick death, once I’ve dealt with _you_.”

Aster didn’t see red, but it was close. “You’ll keep your filthy claws off my Jack,” he muttered darkly, and shoved, forcing the god back several steps, while throwing a punch with a free paw. He clipped the lion’s jaw. “I’ll tear your arms off even for the suggestion!”

They continued grappling back and forth for several minutes, neither able to get the upper hand, and Jack unable to get a shot in for fear of hitting Aster. Despite managing a few random hits here and there from his free paws, Apedemak seemed to be slowly turning the tables on Aster.

Finally, Aster made a mistake, and ended up thrown several dozen yards away, slamming into a sand dune with more than enough speed for it to feel harder than it should.

He heard, more than felt, a rib crack.

Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he heard Jack begin swearing, and the sound of ice cracking and popping. Shattering. Looking up from his prone position, dazed by the blow and the growing throb in his side, he gaped at the scene before him.

Apedemak was _growing_. Larger and larger, until he was the size of a small _house_. Bigger even that Jack’s Wind, and with four huge arms, giant claws glistening in the bright sunlight like small swords.

“I’m done playing with you!” the god shouted. “Face my wroth, and _die_!”

“Shit!” Jack exclaimed, dodging to the side as the now-giant lion-god charged him, crashing into the ruins and shattering what little remained of the nearest wall. “I totally did not sign up for this!”

Aster grunted and sat up, preparing to throw himself back into the fray, when a quiet cough off to the side drew his attention. Glancing to the side, he sighed in relief.

“Oh, thank El-Ahrairah you’re here.”

The raven he’d sent back to the Warren crept forward cautiously. “I found the bag right where you said it would be. I didn’t expect it to be so heavy though.”

Aster grinned darkly and dumped out the contents on the ground. Several large, bladed weapons clattered to the sand, muffled slightly by the loose surface material.

And a smaller bag, which contained a very special blend of chocolate. He opened it, and pulled out the large square. The raven’s eyes widened as he took in the size of the weapons, and the block of chocolate.

“Is that…?”

“Yes,” he said, and ate the chocolate in one bite.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Jack managed to scramble out of the way of a giant _foot_ , did his best to freeze it in place, and called for the Wind. She swooped down and attacked Apedemak, of course, but like this she was no bigger, compared to him, than a barn owl usually was to a human man. And he took less notice of her claws and the buffeting from her wings.

Idea. He needed an idea. _C’mon, think! All those years practically on your own, guarding Aster’s fluffy little tail… Something!_ Jack twirled his staff, freezing the scant water in the air into sharp edged diamond dust, right on level with Apedemak’s eyes. It did nothing except make the god scowl, looking uglier than he already did.

And then a deep, familiar voice bellowed, “ _LEAVE HIM ALONE!”_

Jack glanced behind Apedemak and gaped.

Aster.

“Oh my god…!” Kern gasped from where he was standing, looking for an opening to attack the war god.

“You _are_ a god, shut up.”

Still…

Jack was thankful that he could fly, because otherwise he’d have stumbled and maybe been crushed when Aster, now giant-sized too - and with six-arms, when had he grown _six-arms_? - crashed into the giant war god, huge sword-like things swinging wildly, and driving the war god back.

“ _YOU WILL NOT HURT MY MATE!”_

That was… kind of hot, actually - Jack immediately scolded himself for letting his libido wander, and reined himself in. He instead took the opportunity to flee, since there was little he could do in a battle of titans.

Oh god. Aster was so big! Bigger, even, than Apedemak, though that may have been because of the extra arms he had over the war god.

The Wind swooped down, and Jack landed astride her shoulders. The view was better from up here, though… thinking about it, while the sentiment Aster had bellowed across the landscape was attractive, his size actually wasn’t. Lusting after giants was clearly not one of Jack’s kinks, and he was kind of thankful for that.

Though… the six arms _were_ doing things for him. Maybe he could try to convince Aster again, to have sex with him and his six arms, after the battle was over…. At a more normal size, of course.

He shook himself. Bad Jack, no naughty thoughts while Aster’s life was in danger.

The two gigantic spirits clashed and bled, first one and then the other getting an attack through the others defenses. Unlike Apedemak, however, each injury only served to infuriate Aster all the more.

Kind of like the Hulk, actually, Jack mused as the realization struck him.

Shit. He was dating the _Hulk_.

Okay then. He’d just have to do a better job of it than all of the actual Hulk’s girlfriends. Mostly they all ended up dead. Yeah, no.

“Alright, Wind. Let’s go help out my rage monster,” he murmured, and grinned. The Wind shrieked in reply, the sound making Jack wince… and the two battling giants, too.

“You are a menace to society,” he muttered, and urged her higher into the air.

When he next glanced down, he blanched. Apedemak had pulled two huge sickles from _somewhere_ , and was managing to fend off Aster’s attacks handily, now. A distraction was in order, and he was just the man for the job.

“Let’s go!” he shouted, and leaned forward as the Wind dove. He jumped off when she swiped her talons at his head, and landed on the war god’s shoulder. It was large enough to stand on, so he set his feet, readied his staff, and then slammed the butt of the staff into Apedemak’s eye at full strength.

The god bellowed in pain, and swiped at Jack, rather than the Pooka, which was all the opening he’d needed. Aster struck, and cut deeply into the upraised forearm, slicing tendons and rendering the hand mostly useless. Apedemak bellowed again, and flailed the useless arm at Jack, clipping the Wind and sending her skittering across the sky.

“Hey! That’s my bird!” Jack hit the god in the side of the head, coating half his face in thick ice.

The god snarled wordlessly and tried to grab at Jack with one of his free hands, even as he retrieved the dropped sickle with the remaining free one and returned to successfully defending against Aster’s blinding assault.

“Oh, come on,” Jack whined, clinging to Apedemak’s shoulder more to keep from falling off than anything else. “Hurry up, Aster! Kill him!”

Dodging several attempts at being grabbed, Jack switched shoulders and froze the other side of the god’s face, though the ice on the other side was already mostly melted. Stupid desert heat.

His distraction was sufficient though, and Aster managed to disarm the war god of one of his sickles again, though not with the same ruthless efficiency as before; the hand was still usable, if bleeding.

Clearly, his Cottontail needed encouragement. Jack grinned a little to himself. “Aster! If you don’t kill this idiot right now, you’re not having another orgasm for a full month!”

Despite the obvious rage that this form induced, Aster’s eyes still widened for a moment, before narrowing more than before. He snarled deeply, and renewed his assault, driving the war god back.

Yup, very much like the Hulk. Everything was filtered through a primal filter of need-want. Aster wanted orgasms - fertility spirit, Jack was kind of figuring it was a trait, by now - so _clearly_ he needed to kill Apedemak.

Still, no need for Aster to have all the fun. Jack went back to whacking at the war god’s head with his staff, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster with his ribs aching the way they were.

In the next moment, he suddenly found himself hurtling through the air and wondering what the hell had happened, and why his sides ached more than before. The Wind appeared from nowhere - as far as he could tell in his dazed state - and caught him, bringing him gently to the ground a fair distance away from the battle giants.

It took Jack longer than he’d have liked to realize what had happened - Apedemak’s flailing, useless arm had finally managed to do what his good ones could not, and sent him flying with a solid smack. He was lucky that it hadn’t been a functional one, though, or those claws might have torn him to shreds.

Small victories where he could get them, he supposed, groaning as he sat up and leaned against the Wind for support. She hissed at the battling spirits, and spread one wing over him protectively.

“Ow,” Jack decided, and rubbed at the back of his head.

The bellow that followed his impromptu flight made his ears ring.

Aster.

Jack’s eyes widened in shock as the Pooka’s renewed assault - clearly, he’d seen Jack injured - drove the war god back further, up against the side of the temple, where it rose imposingly from the desert floor.

Or had, before Apedemak was rammed into it with one heavy blow, shattering the near-wall. He recovered quickly though, and turned to go on the offensive once more-

Only to take six swords through the gut, the blades blossoming out his back like the spines of a porcupine.

Jack blinked once, very slowly. “Yup. Orgasms for Aster. All of them.”

What else was there to say?

Apedemak slowly raised his head from examining his wounds to look Aster in the eye, complete shock painting his face even uglier than Jack thought possible. And then the life left his eyes, and he slumped forward onto the blades.

Aster roared his triumph and dropped the deadweight, still speared by the huge swords, and, even as Jack watched, began to shrink back to something approximating normal-sized.

Jack giggled involuntarily - ow - when he realized his boyfriend was still a good foot-and-a-half taller than usual, and still six-armed. He wondered idly as the Pooka half-limped over to him how long that’d last, and if he could get the armor off before then.

Aster knelt before him, and asked softly, voice rough, “You okay mate?”

“Been better, but other than that, peachy. So. Six arms.” Jack’s leer was only a little unfocused, and more because he was feeling the adrenaline crash instead of, say, a concussion. It was only a very minor concussion anyways, hardly meant anything. “Looks like we’re going to get to play with them after all.”

Aster grimaced. “I don’t want to hurt you-”

“Don’t be stupid. How long will they last?” He reached over and touched one shoulder, which turned into a second, and a third… looked different. Felt a bit different, too. And the possibilities promised to be very, very fun.

He was favored with another considering look. “... after that much chocolate, and the special blend… probably at least a week.”

“Sex _and_ pranks,” Jack mused. “I like the thought of that.”

Aster’s face looked pained. “Are you _sure_ -”

“I’m sure that if you keep protesting, you’ll be sleeping on the couch instead of getting your reward for killing the idiot,” Jack said, and pointed at where Apedemak’s body… had been. “Hey, did he evaporate?”

Aster glanced over and grunted. “Huh. Guess so. That didn’t happen the last time I killed ‘em.”

Jack rolled his head near-bonelessly, and looked over at a small hill. “Lack of belief will do that to you,” he said, and pointed. “Look, mortals.”

The mortals were - well, running away would have been too kind of a phrasing, but there it was. Jack reasoned that the Lion of the South’s crusade-jihad-whatever-you-want-to-call-it was over. He wondered idly how long it would take for the humans to deal with the prophet.

He was startled from his musing by Aster picking him up again, despite his injuries. With six arms cradling him… wow, yeah, okay. Totally having sex as soon as they got him out of this armor. Injuries or no.

He said as much, and got a pained look in reply.

Ah well. He was sure it wouldn’t take much to convince Aster of the merits of his plan, once he was naked in their nest, freshly bandaged up by the nurses in the Infirmary.

He would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Is it spoilery to say that the war is over?"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Next chapter will be most fun. I'll give you lot three guesses what the boys get up to, and the first two don't count."


	31. Chapter 31

**Saturday, 29 June 2013 -- Fortress, South Pole, Antarctica, evening**

“Just _what_ the _fucking_ hell were you _thinking_? Goddamn it, Jack! Broken ribs are not a joke!”

“They were cracked,” Jack pointed out.

Odin’s expression said, clearly enough, that he didn’t care if they had been turned into adamantine armor, he _still_ thought Jack was a moron.

“They’re broken _now_ ,” Odin growled.

Despite Odin’s thunderous gaze, Jack quipped, “So?”

“Were it in my power and I had the majority, I would strip you of your Regency.” Odin turned and walked over to the large window-slash-hole in the wall. He stared out over the icefields, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders tense. “However, since I do not have the majority, I shall have to take other measures. More _effective_ ones,” he said, and turned around, grinning.

Jack did _not_ like that expression. In the least. Anger, that was normal. This, though…

“Um… sorry?”

“Yes?” Odin asked, sounding almost perky. _Perky_. Odin. The brain boggled.

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you? And what are you sorry for, Jack?”

“... making you upset?”

Odin’s lone eye twinkled, and Jack was for some reason reminded of Dumbledore. Funnily enough, that didn’t help his feelings of impending doom. “Perhaps you could explain how you made me upset? Just to ensure we have a proper understanding of each other.”

“By… not listening to you and getting hurt?” Jack said, wincing. It did sound kind of dumb, put like that.

The old god nodded, still smiling in that weird, blood-chilling manner. “Precisely. Which is why you will remain under my _personal_ observation until your ribs heal. The medics have told me it should only take three or four days, with the proper treatment.”

Jack spluttered. “But, Aster - I mean, _six arms_ \- I mean… um, what?”

“I’m having a desk set up in my office,” Odin said dryly. “And the medics will expect you in bed… _in the Infirmary…_ where Gretchen will keep an eye on you overnight. In case your health fails.”

Jack felt his heart fall down into his feet, or maybe a bit through them. And he knew, he just _knew_ , that the armor wouldn’t be coming off until the medics gave him a clean bill of health.

Damn all overprotective gods, anyways!

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Tuesday, 2 July 2013 -- Fortress, South Pole, Antarctica, late afternoon**

“Why did you make it so only you could remove it?” Jack flexed his arms, and breathed a not-so-subtle sign of relief. “Shirt.”

Weyland started to go off about designs and protection and - Jack shot him a look and the god paused, and then sighed. “Odin told me to. He didn’t want you… ‘distracted’, during the war. You didn’t hear it from me.”

“I’m going to murder that man in his sleep. I’ll get the terrible trio to help, Brenda and Vahan have been disturbingly quiet and Loki’s always up for a prank. _Shirt_.”

Weyland glanced around, and then lowered his voice. “I’ve been tinkering with the design on the side. Next time you wear it, it should be easier to remove.” And then he winked.

“How about flat out possible. Give me my _shirt_ , Weyland, or so help me I’m going to hurt you badly.”

The smith laughed and tossed the bundled, pressed, and cleaned shirt at him. It was even in a thin plastic wrap, of all things!

“You are a horrible person and no one likes you.” Jack tossed the plastic wrap back. “You didn’t do anything, did you? And where’s my sweater?”

“What if I add a quick release for the leather trousers?” He tossed the hoodie over.

“Bribery will get you nowhere if you don’t produce my pants in the next five seconds.” Sitting around in his underwear wasn’t what he wanted to do. In Weyland’s forge. With company. And no Aster.

“I took the liberty of repairing the damage to the seams while I had them,” Weyland noted as he pulled the pants out and handed them over as well. “You really should have those things repaired more than once a decade if you want them to last.”

“Yeah, but if I had them repaired more than once a decade you’d try to add lasers to them.” Jack pulled his pants on, and frowned. “Right, I’m leaving. Is my office fixed?”

Weyland laughed again, and shook his head. “Yes.” He rolled his eyes. “And, you know, I hear Bunnymund is a fair hand at sewing.”

“He’s made all his own stuff for thousands of years… but you know, I always figured that was why he wanders around mostly naked. That he can’t sew.” Jack grinned, caught up his staff, and saluted Weyland on his way out.

“Perhaps those pants will get repaired more often if you give them to him. I’m sure _he_ won’t mind you running around without them on.” Weyland grinned and turned back to his forge.

“Good _bye_ Weyland, don’t slam a hammer on your thumb!”

Jack laughed a little to himself, and then sobered. Office. He needed to get to his office, where he wouldn’t have freaking Odin watching over his shoulder, and where he could maybe get a little work done and a lot of daydreaming, or maybe he could just skip the work and go straight to playing hookey and vanishing into the Warren with Bunny.

Though, first he’d have to _find_ Bunny. The Pooka had been ghosting about the Fortress the whole time he’d been trapped here by Odin, but now he was strangely no where to be found. Well. Maybe he was checking out Jack’s refurbished office?

Possible nookie had him moving even faster, until he was almost running and getting a few odd looks from the agents in the halls. Jack turned down the final hallway, which was - as always - empty. The wall was suspiciously bright and shiny, having been completely replaced since the battle, and the door was the cleanest he’d ever seen it.

And there was a bell over the door. It chimed when Jack stepped into his office, and again when he closed the door.

He stared up at it.

Then looked around, prepared to find something else to kill Weyland over… but the stacks of paperwork and the filing cabinets were all where they were supposed to be. Freshly printed, and newly constructed, true, but still. The same.

It was just a bell. Just one measly little bell. Not worth killing over. Probably.

He set about tidying up - which actually meant making a proper mess of the neatly stacked paperwork on his desk as he ‘found’ everything - and was just getting into a rhythm when the door bell chimed twice, followed immediately by the door clicking shut.

Jack looked up, scowling like a demon and ready to eviscerate - Bunny. No evisceration. Something more fun.

“Finally,” he snapped, and vaulted the desk.

“What- mmf!” Aster started to exclaim, but Jack quickly silenced him with a hard kiss and pressed him back against the door, six-armed bulk or no.

Throwing your full body weight at someone had it’s advantages, as did surprise.

Jack flicked his hand distractedly at the lock, freezing it shut. That should keep people out for at least a couple hours. He could always renew it if things ran… long.

Now, to satisfy his curiosity and see if bigger Aster - hands, feet, and all - meant bigger ‘little Aster’ too....

“Jack!”

“What?” Jack reached down, carding his fingers through Aster’s belly fur. “Are you really complaining right now?”

“No, just - crikey!”

Jack’s hand had found his sheath. Squeezing it seemed to interrupt the Pooka’s train of thought.

“Isn’t this a bit soo- oooh….”

Yup. Squeeze and he stopped talking. More squeezing of bulge, less talking. Good. Maybe more kissing too. That should keep him quiet.

Aster groaned, and suddenly Jack was being clutched by five hands. The sixth was holding onto the door frame for dear life, as though Aster was in any danger of falling over, between the door at his back and Jack at his front.

“I’m horny,” Jack said, pulling back just enough to make his announcement. “Horny, frustrated, a little ticked off, but mostly horny. Care to help me with that?”

“Uh…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Jack dropped to his knees as pink finally started peeking out of the - yes, very much larger - sheath. “Don’t mind if I do.”

“Shouldn’t I be doing for you?” Aster gasped, just before Jack started lapping at the pink tip of Aster’s cock.

“Later,” Jack murmured. “After I get you off.”

And then he went about suckling on the tip as it slowly crept out further. Such lovely sounds his boyfriend was making now. Gasps and moans and the occasional “Jack!” while he went to work.

Aster didn’t last long. Considering how many times they’d been interrupted, that probably wasn’t a surprise. “It’s a good thing you’re a fertility spirit,” Jack pointed out, and stood up. “Do you think I should get the lube?”

“Lube?” he asked, still obviously dazed and - huh. He was still growing out of his sheath.

Heh. He’d gotten the poor kangaroo off before he was fully hard. Skillz there.

“Lube,” Jack said. “Because spit won’t cut it, blood is gross and doesn’t work, and dry is even worse. Should I get it?”

“Uh… where’s it going?” Still not all there.

_I’m awesome._

“Flip a coin,” Jack suggested, and found one in his hoodie pocket. “Heads, I top, tails, you bottom. Good with you?”

Aster nodded vaguely. Jack flipped, got heads. “I win. Your ass is mine.”

“Wait a mo.” Aster straightened up. “What was that about tails…?”

Jack licked the fully-unsheathed cock before his face from base to tip and suckled for a moment. “Nevermind,” he murmured. “Just turn around and spread ‘em.”

“I - ah - not turning around,” Aster muttered. He gasped again, and one hand found its way to Jack’s hair, another to the back of Jack’s neck, and two more to his shoulders.

“Then spread ‘em anyway,” Jack ordered, reaching over to the bookcase and snagging the spare bottle of lube he kept there - one of many he had secreted around his office. Nice to see Kern remembered to stash them before he got back here.

“Okay.” Aster let go of Jack’s hair, and leaned back against the door, two hands already going up to hold onto the lintel. “Why did you have lube in your bookcase?”

“Nevermind,” Jack said again, and started rubbing one lubed finger around Aster’s hole, eliciting a surprised gasp. His other hand found the Pooka’s balls and began massaging them in preparation for when his fingers would be entering shortly.

“Ja~ack.” Aster’s head went _thump_ against the door, and his hips jerked forwards.

“We can do this fast, thorough, or good. Pick two,” Jack told him.

“We-” Gasp. “We can-” Moan. “Skip ‘fast’.”

“Thorough and good it is, then.” Jack began to slide one finger in, and grinned at Aster’s wide-eyed expression. “See? Thorough and good.”

Aster just groaned needily and thrust lightly down against Jack’s invading digit. Alright then. Two fingers it’ll be.

Or maybe three, with how enthusiastic the alien leporid was about two. Jack chuckled a little, and got a yank to the hair for his trouble. “Hey! Be nice or no more nookie!”

Jack squeezed a fourth finger inside, in retaliation. Bunny apparently appreciated that. And was also probably more than stretched enough for Jack to move onto the next phase.

“So this next bit will require a bit of balance on all our parts, unless you’re cool with, I don’t know, bracing against the desk.” Jack pulled his fingers out.

Aster growled. “Put ‘em back.”

He dipped his fingers in the pot of lube and started lathering up his own cock without breaking his gaze from Aster’s.

“... or that. That’s good too.” Aster’s extra arms shot out and grabbed the lintel again, along with the edge of the bookcase - thank Polaris Jack had remembered to have that bolted down - and his shoulders, though those hands started to wander as Jack lined up, the tip of his penis kissing Aster’s hole. He decided to tease a bit, and rubbed around instead of thrusting in.

“Jack, just-” Aster growled again, and wrapped one leg around Jack’s hip. “In. Now.” He paused, and added, smirking, “Or no more nookie for you.”

Jack growled himself, lined up, and thrust, hilting himself in one smooth motion. Aster moaned, long and low, and two of his hands found Jack’s hips, squeezing encouragement as they did so.

“Offices aren’t meant for nookie,” Jack muttered, and pulled out as slowly as he could manage. Aster grunted in reply. “Really not meant for it,” he said, and thrust back in.

He considered things for a moment, and then rested his hands on Aster’s hips. “Hey, Cottontail. Trust me?”

Aster grunted at the last thrust, and hummed. “Always.”

“Good. Don’t freak out.” Jack clenched his hands on Aster’s hips, lifted, and shifted, until he was holding Aster’s weight up. “Wrap your legs around my waist, that’ll help…”

Aster groaned at the change in angle and nodded, lifting first one leg, and then the other, to wrap around Jack’s waist. “I’m, ah… surprised you can hold my weight.”

“Oh, please.” Jack shifted as well, and then started finding his rhythm. “I could carry Thor around, if I wanted.” He smirked as two pairs of arms wrapped around his back and shoulders. Kind of nice. A bit like being hugged by a furry octopus, but otherwise really nice. “You’re not that heavy.”

Aster moaned, rather than respond, as Jack apparently found just the right spot. Perfect. Adjusting his grip slightly to ensure he maintained the angle, Jack began thrusting slowly, teasingly across Aster’s prostate.

“T-tease,” Aster gasped, and - oh, right, six arms. Which meant that while four of his arms were wrapped around Jack, that left two of them free, and now Jack had two hands running across his chest and tweaking his nipples.

When had he lost his shirt?

“And you’re not?” Jack thrust harder to emphasize his point. Or something.

Aster’s mocking grin turned into a moan, so he tweaked a nipple in reply instead.

Jack bit his lip, and leaned forward enough to rest his forehead against Aster’s chest. His arms were starting to ache. So were his ribs. And if he didn’t finish quickly, he was going to bite something, and he didn’t actually want to.

“You close?” he asked.

Aster bit his lip, and nodded.

Well then. Jack sped up his thrusts, one of his hands wandering up to tease along Aster’s length - which, seriously, the guy could win medals with that giant - and he edged ever closer to release. He was determined to get Aster off first, however. To that end - and he knew his ribs would protest the action, but fuck them - he leaned over and licked the tip of Aster’s cock.

“Jack!” Aster’s head thumped against the door again. “Jack, Jack, Ja-aah!”

Yay. Protesting ribs be damned, Jack was _king_.

And, _oooh_ , coming himself. He hilted and just stayed there as he finished, before letting his head flop forward to rest on Aster’s chest ruff as he panted. They slowly slid down to sit on the floor; Aster sighed when Jack popped out, though in seeming disappointment rather than discomfort.

Heh. Totally king.

“What’s say we catch our breath,” Jack said, between gasps, “And get the fuck out of here?”

Aster nodded. “Sounds - sounds good, mate. Let’s… go home.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Wednesday, 3 July 2013 -- Warren, early morning**

Jack woke slowly. And then shifted.

_Ow. Ow ow ow._

Okay, wide awake now.

Protesting ribs were protesting. Not. Fun.

He rolled over - carefully - until he was on his side, his mate a lovely backrest that promptly wrapped three arms over him, keeping him in place. That was better. Nice and thoughtful and worthy of reward…

Jack smirked. He knew just what kind of reward he’d give out. And he already knew his Bunny would quite enjoy it.

He laid in place for a few more minutes, just enjoying the warmth, but eventually got restless enough to put his plan into action. Ever so carefully, he turned in Aster’s multi-armed embrace, until he was chest to chest with his boyfriend, and then, once again ever so slowly, slid down until he was face-to-sheath with his goal. In sleep, Bunny was surprisingly flaccid, given the cuddling.

Jack would have to do something about that.

Something like… He blew on the sheath, and began stroking Bunny’s thigh.

“C’mon, Cottontail. Wakey wakey... _this_ part of you anyways…” Jack whispered, his breath tickling the sheath even more. A hint of pink was his reward.

A bit of fondling got the desired result, which was to say Jack now had something to mouth and lap. He was still surprised by the sheer size of the cock when Aster was ‘hulked out’ - Jack suppressed a giggle at the idea of dating the Hulk again - and by just how long it took to bring to ‘full attention’.

Oh well. Not like he couldn’t play with it while it grew.

He carefully nibbled up the underside of it, one of his hands playing with Aster’s balls, and the other sneaking behind them to stimulate the lightly-furred perineum; Aster always seemed to like that spot in particular.

Aster groaned in his sleep, and then began to purr. One hand fumbled its way to Jack’s head, and rested there, albeit awkwardly, since it was an unconscious action. The others twitched against the blankets, but Bunny didn’t seem close to waking up.

Jack smirked, and shifted his mouth, so that he was sucking on Aster’s cock as if it were a popsicle. _That_ always got results. Usually of the gasp-gasp-scream Jack’s name kind…

Not that he was complaining.

And he did get a sleepy whimper for his efforts. Score.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Aster knew it was a dream, only because Jack wouldn’t be caught dead in those kinds of clothes. Not that Aster cared much about clothes, not when his dream-mate was doing some of the most sinfully wicked things with his mouth and tongue as Aster had ever imagined.

Still… the harem theme of the dream was _nice_. And it was oddly stimulating to hear Jack whisper ‘master’ around a mouthful of cock.

He could feel himself beginning to wake, and whimpered.

_No, not now… not at the best part…._

His eyes fluttered open.

There was still a wet heat around his cock, though it took him a few seconds to realize this.

“... Jack…?” he whispered, voice roughened from sleep.

The nice feeling of tongue and lips left his cock, and he looked down. Jack smirked up at him. “Yes?”

“... so it wasn’t a dream…?”

“This part wasn’t,” Jack said, and shrugged. Then he bent down and … _ooooh_ that felt good.

Questions later. Enjoy now.

Jack took his time, slowly sucking him down, and then bobbing just as slowly back up. He’d repeat the motion a few times, and then pull off to nibble gently on the underside, or suckle on the tip. Occasionally, he’d dip down and lav at Aster’s balls while rubbing and squeezing at the cock with the hand his mouth replaced.

And - ah - one hand kept playing with his perineum, and teasing his hole.

“N-not fair,” Aster gasped, and tried not to shift his hips too much. “Y- y’ said I’d have a chance t’ - t’ - Crikey Jack, can y’ go any _slower_?”

Apparently, he _could._ Bastard.

He took a deep breath, and let it out with a whine. “ _Jack_!”

His mate pulled off his cock, eliciting another whimper. “Can’t you see I’m busy worshipping here?”

And then dove right back down to continue his slow, teasing stimulation.

“Worship faster, or better, lemme show you what to do proper. Fuck, Frostbite, get up here!”

Jack pulled back again. “What, and not get you all nice and ready for buttsex?”

Aster tried to knee Jack in the shoulder. “My turn,” he snapped. “You said and then you cheated with that coin yesterday!”

“Noticed that, did you?” Jack asked, tongue-in-cheek, while continuing to play with his cock and balls with his hands. “I _meant_ , I’m having fun preparing _you_ for putting this _monster_ in _my_ ass.”

“Well, shouldn’t we be prepping your arse then?” Aster asked, frowning. Exactly how did sucking _him_ off prepare _Jack_?

Jack licked the tip. “But I _like_ getting you off at least once, first. It seems to take the edge off.” He suckled a bit. “Not like you can’t go several rounds.”

True that… “Well, if you’re enjoying yourself…” Aster lay back, and made an imperious gesture with two paws. “Continue.”

Jack sucked him down, and _then_ laughed. Oooh, that was nice.

“Do - ah - do that again.”

Jack grinned around his mouthful, and hummed. Ooooh, yes, very very nice.

Aster tilted his head back, and smirked at the ceiling. “An’ all you’d need is - ah! - harem pants…”

Jack pulled off, licked the tip, and then asked, “Was that the dream?”

And then all but swallowed his cock before he could reply.

“Call me ‘master’ ‘round that mouthful,” Aster said, once his eyes had uncrossed, “And you’re likely to find out.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow, before a thoughtful expression flit across his face, followed quickly by a mischievous one. The sprite pulled back from nearly deep throating him - how he didn’t gag was a question for another day - and, suckling the tip now, whispered, ever so sensually, “As you wish. _Master_.”

And the bastard drew out the ‘s’ of ‘Master’ in a mock-hiss. Glorious, amazing, bastard of a mate, who’s mouth did _things_ Aster hadn’t felt in… well, forever, really. Or at least, it felt that way.

Aster fought against coming right then and there, and managed to win. Or lose. He wasn’t sure which it was, considering he was still hard and twitching a little and more than ready for that ever so pleasurable explosion.

Jack looked amused. Arse.

And then, ever so slowly, truly started to deep throat his cock, twisting his head to the side as he slid down, and then righting it as he pulled back. That was… _very_ different, and _very_ good.

His hips started to involuntarily thrust, though he tried his best to avoid choking his mate. Jack tapped his thigh to get his attention - apparently, his head had rolled back and his eyes had closed. When had that happened?

Jack tapped his hip when he finally looked down, and pet it gently, seemingly indicating he was okay with the thrusting.

Well. Alright then.

Aster reached down with two hands, and stroked Jack’s hair, even as he began to undulate his hips up into that lovely mouth, and then away. He went slow, because no matter how okay Jack was with it, he still didn’t want to choke the bloke. That’d be rude, especially after everything Jack had done for him so far.

And - and - ah - it didn’t seem like he’d have to worry for long…

“Jack - Jack, I - I - ah -” he gasped, trying to warn his mate, but he couldn’t find the words.

Jack seemed to understand regardless and braced himself. Not a moment too soon, either.

White lights flashed in front of Aster’s eyes, and his entire body tensed, and then forcibly relaxed. Once the ringing in his ears died off, he was able to hear himself panting, making sounds very much like the start of words.

“Enjoy yourself?” Jack asked. He looked down, just in time to see the bastard lick his lips and look smug. Just like the cat that had caught the canary, found a bowl of cream, and had a fish drop down beside him.

“Just a bit,” Aster agreed. “So. You said something about me topping, yes…?”

Jack laughed, and nodded, pulling that little jar of lube - Aster vaguely remembered it from yesterday - out of his hoodie pocket from the bedside heap his clothes were in.

Oh. Oh, he’d forgotten - Jack was _naked_. And obviously hard and needy, if the way his cock throbbed with his heartbeat was any indication.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” Aster nodded to Jack, more particularly his hips, and raised his eyebrows. “Don’t figure you want these…” He held up one hand, fingers spread, “anywhere inside you. Claws…”

Jack eyed his paws, and sighed. “Yeah. Look a bit sharper than usual, don’t they?” He nodded decisively. “Well, then, I guess you’ll just have to watch me prepare myself, won’t you?”

Watch… Aster nodded, eyes wide. “Sure thing,” he said, shifting so he could get a better view. Maybe learn a few things.

Mostly for the view.

Jack settled back against a pile of pillows, shifting around a bit to get comfortable, and then planted his feet wide, exposing his hole to Aster. He then slicked up a finger and, without removing his gaze from Aster’s, began teasing himself. After a minute, he slipped the finger inside, letting out a soft gasp. And a whimper.

No, wait. That had been him. Jack smirked at him. Bastard.

“Done this before, Frostbite?”

“Not as such,” Jack admitted. “Not _all_ the way. About this far.” He leered at Aster.

Right. He was going to be Jack’s first, in that way. He shivered at the thought. Meanwhile, Jack had progressed to two fingers, wincing slightly at the intrusion.

“You, ah… might want to take it slower, love,” Aster commented, wincing himself in sympathy. “No need to rush on my part. Take it slow. Especially for a first time.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine… at least you won’t be putting _knuckles_ in me.” Jack wrinkled his nose.

Aster eyed his paws. Right, those _were_ kind of large, given his increased size. “Ah, right.”

Jack took a lot longer to progress from two to three fingers, and only twitched slightly when he finally added the third, scissoring them as he did so. “I - ah, wow that burns slightly - I think I’m about ready.”

“About?” Aster twitched an ear. “Fully is a good word. About is not. You sure?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, eyeing Aster’s cock, and then nodded. “Just… go slow?”

“Slow, I can do.” Aster reached for Jack. “C’mere, mate. How you feel about being on top? Figure it’s better ‘n having me on you, yeah?”

Jack looked at him for a long moment, and then sighed. “Yeah, it might be, but my… my ribs are still a bit touchy. The pillows feel good right now.”

He didn’t look like he’d wanted to admit the weakness, but Aster appreciated the honesty.

“Well, I’ll do all the work, then,” he promised. “An’ I’d rather know you’re hurting than do something to make it worse.”

Jack smiled softly at him, and nodded, simultaneously sliding down amongst the pillow pile, and pushing back into it, so that he ended up mostly prone, with his upper body supported by a huge clump of the fluffy pillows. “I think this is the best position I can manage right now. Your turn.”

“So it is,” he purred, and shifted to crawl over onto his mate. “Uh…” He frowned down at his six hands. “Right…”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, this’ll take some maneuvering. It’s totally different when I’m drilling you, isn’t it? Here, put the upper arms right… _here_ , next to my waist, to brace yourself, and the next two can hold my hips...” Jack carefully placed the paws in question in their places as he spoke. “And the last two can manipulate my legs.”

He frowned. “Manipulate your legs? Don’t you do that yourself?”

Jack looked at him blankly for several seconds. “I... don’t know? Where _do_ I put my legs?”

“Ah, around my hips for preference,” Aster said after a moment. After a second moment, he smirked and began to chuckle. “Oh, we’re a right bunch of novices at this, aren’t we?”

Jack giggled sheepishly. “Yeah… fuck it, doesn’t matter. You’re here, I’m here, and we’re doing this, awkwardness and all. C’mere, sexy kangaroo, so I can wrap my legs around you.”

Aster shuffled further forward, his cock sliding up alongside Jack’s - and eliciting a pleased hiss from both of them - as the sprite did as he’d spoken, and wrapped his legs lightly around the Pooka’s waist. He then shifted back slightly and moved one paw from Jack’s hip to his erection, and positioned the tip at Jack’s hole.

“You ‘about ready’, mate?” he said, smirking at his mate.

“Yeah. Hurry up and get moving.” Jack waggled his eyebrows. “Not going to just lie around all day waiting for you.”

“Are… are you _sure_ you’re ready?” He didn’t want to screw this up, not now, and not with Jack.

“Bunny, I will freeze your face if you don’t _get in me_ right now.”

Nodding sheepishly himself, he gently, _gently_ pushed forward, the tip of his cock breaching Jack and eliciting a hiss. He paused immediately. “Are you okay?”

Jack cracked one eye open. “Oh Polaris, it’s a good thing that monster of yours is _tapered_.”

Reassured, but still cautious, he very slowly, and carefully, continued pushing inside, pausing every inch or so to make sure Jack was still okay. By the seventh inch, Jack had to have him pause for nearly a full minute before they continued. He was nearly vibrating with the need to hilt himself, but held back as best he could until Jack gave the okay.

Eight inches of cock was quite a bit to fit in anyone, let alone his mate. Besides which, he had a feeling he wouldn’t last too much longer. Jack’s fault, that.

“El-Ahrairah, you’re tight, Jackie,” Aster grunted as he finally, _finally_ , hilted himself.

Surprisingly, Jack was also quite warm, down there. Who knew?

“No, you’re just big.” Jack tilted his head back, exposing the long, pale line of his throat. “Really big. Really, really… if it makes you feel any better, you put Kern to shame.”

Aster grinned ferally at that, before sobering. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to start thrusting, love. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jack glared, and then flicked him on the nose. “If you don’t shape up, I’m rolling us over, icing your hands down, and having my way with you. _Lots_ of times.”

Aster blinked, growled, and pulled half out, before thrusting back in. Hard. “ _Mine_.”

“Only - hah! - if you’re mine. More, rabbit-brain! _Do_ something with that stick of yours!”

Growling again, he began slowly thrusting, first just half the length, but, after several minutes of toying with Jack, more and more, until he was pulling nearly all the way out, and then hilting himself. Jack seemed to appreciate the effort, if the moans and gasps were to be believed.

“What was that about _doing something_ with it? Is _this_ -” Here, he thrust particularly hard to emphasize his statement. “Good enough?”

Jack might’ve been crosseyed. “I dunno,” he gasped. “Don’t have… big enough… sample size. Keep going, we’ll find out.”

Aster kept up a relatively slow pace, still getting used to the sensation of actually being _inside_ someone, rather than being taken. It was… more wonderful and amazing that he could have imagined, and that feeling of closeness was still there, just… mutated, a bit.

Jack kicked a foot, and managed to peg Aster in the tail. “Are you telling me this is it?” he asked, chest heaving. “Really? C’mon, Bunny-butt, I’m not gonna _break_.” And he kicked his foot again.

Aster growled. “Oh, ya don’t want me to go at ‘rabbit’ pace, mate, do ya? ‘Cause I will if you keep that up.”

He thrust harder for emphasis again. That was actually kind of fun to do.

“Well, so far your pacing has left something to be desired,” Jack said, once he’d caught his breath. More or less. His chest was heaving in _quite_ the distracting manner.

Aster growled. “You asked for it, Jacko. Here’s what a rabbit race _really_ feels like!”

With that, he let himself go, and began thrusting, hard and fast - and it was a wonder he didn’t get friction burns, or Jack. Good lube.

He also adjusted his angle slightly, searching for Jack’s prostate. It didn’t take him long to find it.

“Bun~ _ny_!” Jack kicked him again, but this time by accident. Probably. Jack clutched at the pillows, Aster’s arms, his fur, gasping and eyes bugging out. “Yeah, yeah - more!”

Fine. Since he asked so nicely. Or looked so nice asking. Either way, he deserved a ‘reward’.

Aster increased his pace yet again, and made sure to keep the angle that pleasured his mate the best. It didn’t take long for Jack to start trying to warn him of his impending climax - ineffectually, but his words kept being interrupted by moans and gasps, so it was understandable.

“Yeah?” Aster freed one hand up, and reached down to Jack’s otherwise neglected cock. “Just a little more, eh Jackie?” He smirked, and began pumping his hand up and down.

“I - I - Ast-Aster, you - I - ah!”

Jack’s eyes rolled back, and his spine arched into a tight bow. His arse tightened around Aster’s cock even as his stomach was coated in his seed. Aster moaned, thrusting twice more before hilting and coming himself, filling Jack full of his own seed, Jack whimpering in response to the sensation.

Aster felt himself start to collapse, and managed to aim to the side, wrapping his mate up in his many arms as they tilted. The movement jostled his softening - but by no means retracting - cock, and Jack gasped.

“Like that?” Aster murmured, feeling a bit sly. And smug.

Jack panted for several breaths. “I - yeah - Aster, that was - Polaris, I can’t -”

“Yeah,” he agreed. And then a little devil tapped him on the shoulder, and it was all he could do not to cackle. “Now I just gotta remember if I switched that little bit _on_ or _off…_ ”

“Aster? I don’t like that look in your eye. Why are you looking so mischievous? That’s my face, not your face.”

“M’ fertility. Y’know, what’ll make it possible to knock you up. Can’t remember if I turned it off or not.”

Jack gaped. “What? I - what?”

“It’s alright,” he assured Jack. “Default’s off, anyways. What bloke wants swollen feet and strange cravings in the dead of night?”

Jack flopped back against him, but not before flicking his nose again in reprimand. “Don’t _do_ that. ‘S not funny.” He hummed as he snuggled in closer, and then gasped softly when Aster’s cock twitched inside him. “I’ll have you know, I have strange cravings in the night all the time.”

“A longing for your mate isn’t that strange,” Aster murmured, and rolled over so Jack was on top of him. “Ready for round two?”

Jack groaned as he felt Aster become fully hard inside him again, and then quipped, “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”

Jack started moving, and Aster grinned to himself. _A bloke could get used to mornings like this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Yes. Full chapter of smut. You're welcome."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Very welcome _indeed_. The boys certainly appreciate the ... activities."


	32. Chapter 32

**Sunday, 7 July 2013 -- Warren, 8:00 am local time**

“We should prank North.” Jack plopped down at the kitchen table, across from Aster. “Oooh, coffee!”

Aster looked down at his coffee mug, and back up at Jack. Who had his coffee mug. “But,” he said, and made helpless groping gestures. And maybe whined a bit. “My coffee?”

Okay. More than ‘maybe’.

“Mine now; you used my mug.”

He’d been fairly certain they were all his mugs. Aster grunted. After a bit of glowering, he got up and got a new mug. This one he’d hang on to like his life - or at least his morning awakening - depended on it.

“So,” Jack said, and started bouncing in his seat. “We’ve only got, what, two more days of six-armed beauty? We should prank North.”

 

Aster perked up. “Oh? Whatcha thinkin’?” Okay. More coffee. He shouldn’t slur like Jack, of all people, and with his accent.

 

“ _Well_ ,” Jack said, and leered. “We could have sex in his sleigh!”

Blink. “Wot?”

Coffee. He needed more coffee. He downed half the mug.

“Or maybe sex in his office,” Jack said, smiling. His eyes twinkled. Bastard probably knew just how confusing he was being, too. “Sex is the thing. I want it. I also want to make North cry ‘why’ and hide. Catching us having sex should do it, you think?”

He blinked slowly. Drank more coffee. “... if I say yes, does that mean we’re having sex?”

Jack gave him a pitying look, and stole his mug again. “You need more coffee. Yes, Fluffy, saying yes means sex. It might mean getting yelled at and threatened with swords, but sex would happen.”

He made groping gestures at the mug. “But my coffee…”

“I’m getting you more,” Jack promised. “Sit tight.”

He did return this mug, at least. “Drink up, lover-boy, I think I wore you out last night.”

A sappy grin plastered itself unbidden across his face. “Yeah… you’re the best mate.”

“And you’re a tired mate. Drinky-drinky. Then say yes to sex in North’s sleigh.”

He drank and then said dutifully, “Yes.”

“Yay, we prank North with horrible liquids in his sleigh. Fist pump!” Jack spun around on one foot, and punched the air.

Blink. “Wot?”

Jack sighed. “Drink your coffee.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Saturday, 6 July 2013 -- Workshop, 10:04 pm local time**

“Мой санях! Мой санях!” North ran after them, swords waving through the air. “Вы вернись сюда! Сначала я буду шкуру вас, то я буду бить тебя, то Я произведу вам очистить вашу беспорядок! скот! Монстры! Ублюдок! _Get back here_!”

Jack about ran headfirst into a wall, he was laughing so hard. Aster snagged him with a spare set of arms at the last moment, and slung him across his back.

“Hang on, before you smash your fool face.” Aster grunted as he bounded off a wall, looking for an open window. “Why’d this happen again?”

“You did say yes,” Jack said, while making faces at North. “Can’t catch us!”

“Why I ever say ‘yes’ to you, I will never know,” Aster muttered.

“Sex,” Jack reminded him. “All the sex.”

Jack felt, more than heard, the answering purr.

“Hang on, ice block, I’ve got it. That window there!”

“Вы находитесь помрем!”

Jack laughed again, and ducked as Aster leapt through the window in question. “Bye North! See you later!”

He resolved to send Phil an apology note, though, as he was likely going to have to clean up their mess. Ah well. North’s reaction was _awesome_.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Sunday, 7 July 2013 -- Tooth Palace, 12:54 pm local time**

“Why are you _really_ here, Bunny?” Tooth asked. “Not that I’m complaining! But if you try slipping the girls those chocolate coins one more time, I’m going to hurt you.”

Aster plastered his best chagrined look on his face. “What? Chocolate is good for you! Helps the heart!”

Tooth frowned at him. “Not as a trade for baby teeth,” she said. “I don’t want to encourage bad habits!”

He grumbled, “But it makes the ankle-biters happier.”

“And gives them a tummy ache when they eat the chocolate before breakfast. Bad Bunny, no biscuit.”

He eyed her. “You’ve been spending too much time with Jack. How? He’s always home!”

“I think all WINTER Agents have that certain brand of crazy,” she demured. “Quetza talks much the same as Jack, it’s quite sweet. Now, stop trying to change the subject. What brought you here? It’s India. In July. You said the last time you were this way, this time of year, that you’d rather gouge out your eyes with a stick.”

“The heat don’t bother me none, you should know that,” Aster countered, even as he discreetly tried to fan himself. Stupid humidity.

“Mmm, of course it doesn’t.” Tooth raised her eyebrows. “Maybe we should go in?”

Aster glanced to the side and saw Jack leaving the room. _Finally_. “Oh, fine. Sure. Could use a spot of tea anyway, before I head on home.”

“Right. I’ll just get…” Tooth paused, and had the oddest expression on her face. “Bunny…? Is Jack stalking Quetza? Badly?”

He looked. And sighed. He rubbed at the bridge of his muzzle. “How he sneaks up on me all the time, I’ll never know…”

“He probably doesn’t hum a theme song while sneaking up on you,” Tooth murmured. She patted his arm. One of them. “Shall we go watch?”

Aster smirked at her, and nodded. _Maybe we can surprise Jack for once..._

Tooth giggled, and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Shall we, my good sir?”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack knew he was being ridiculous, but if there was one thing Quetza couldn’t stand, it was experts being goofy. And there wasn’t any goofier than ‘sneaking’ around humming the _Mission Impossible_ theme song at obnoxious levels. Several of the fairies were helping out with the music.

Quetza was still doing his best to ignore Jack.

He narrowed his eyes and gestured at several more fairies to join in, before creeping forward slowly.

_Ignore me, will he?_

Jack made exaggerated ‘tip toeing’ motions, much to his entourage's delight. Baby Tooth whispered, quiet enough Quetza wouldn’t hear, that the snake-man’s eye was starting to twitch.

“Good, good,” he whispered back. “Let’s see how far we can get before he cracks, hm?”

The little fairy giggled, and nodded with a great deal of enthusiasm.

Jack paused for half a step when he got an idea. Oh, that would _totally_ do it. He’d have to remember which baby agent had found the parody song, because this would _definitely_ send Quetza over the edge.

“ _Lock your door, watch out for, double-oh-seven!_ ” Jack sang, and began the entire routine. Except for the deliberately bad costuming, of course. And okay, it was kind of awkward trying to sing three parts at very nearly the same time, but he did his best.

“ _I have my way with women, after I’m done I skip town! As I get old, I’m thinking, do men like me settle down?_ ”

Quetza’s tail twitched, and muscles all along his spine up to the back of his neck rippled and tensed.

Jack continued to sing and mock-sneak, with the occasional pause to serenade a fairy or two. He noticed some quiet snickering behind him - that could possibly have been someone trying not to laugh louder. Jack turned, and waggled his eyebrows at Aster while singing about ‘having a way with women’ at a louder volume than before.

Aster made that cute little half-snort sound that occurred when he was holding in hysterical laughter and slapped a paw over his muzzle. Jack’s grin widened.

“That - is - _it_!” Quetza roared, spinning and managing to grow until his human portions were ten feet tall and his snake part even longer. “ _Enough_!”

Jack flew off cackling madly.

Quetzalcoatl gave chase.

Aster about fell over laughing.

Totally worth near death experiences.

Jack switched to a new song, this one a _Mission Impossible_ parody instead of _Double-oh-Seven_. “ _Bad guys never let up, can you tell I’m fed up_?” he warbled, and dodged around a fantastically carved pillar.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Aster had to half-hang onto Tooth’s arm to avoid falling over, he was laughing at Jack’s antics so hard. Tooth wasn’t helping much either, since she was giggling at him for laughing so hard.

And refusing to hold him up, too.

“Bunny - Quetza, no swords!” Tooth stopped giggling long enough to glare at her Guard, who put the swords away and continued chasing Jack.

“It’s - It’s - pffftt - alright, Toothy. He - North - this morning!” Aster started laughing all over again at the memory.

At her raised eyebrow, he managed to gasp out, “Sex. Sleigh.”

“Oh, Bunny, you didn’t!” Tooth shook her head, and then shook him off her arm. He flopped on the ground with a soft grunt. “You went along with that? I’m surprised North didn’t neuter the both of you for that stunt.”

Getting his laughter under control, Aster grinned up at her. “Jack asked me before I’d had coffee.” He paused, and then the grin turned sheepish. “Enough coffee, that is.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you’re not getting enough sleep at night, maybe you should try going to bed earlier.”

“Then Jackie’d want sex earlier.”

“Oh, is _that_ how it is,” she said, smiling. And then she stopped smiling. “Quetza! Watch the fairies!”

“Speaking of your serpent-”

“He’s not _mine_ ,” Tooth protested. “He’s his own serpent.”

Aster rolled his eyes. “Yet. Not yours _yet_. I know what you’re up to. I have _eyes_. And ears. I know what you asked Jack about.”

“All I did was ask,” she said, and favored him with a prim little sniff. “Satisfying my curiosity means nothing in the long run.”

Aster’s ears twitched towards Jack as he began the refrain of yet another song. He stood and brushed himself off. “Aye, that doesn’t. However, visiting the Snow Queen and discussing the traditions, with _intent_ , does.”

“Oh - who told you that?” Tooth folded her arms. “Keep it quiet, the Agents will just turn it into another betting pool.”

“Too late. Blame Kern, I think he started it.” He frowned. “I think he’s also the one who overheard, and told Jack.”

Tooth huffed, and looked towards her personal quarters. “I suppose it wouldn’t be appreciated if Kern was taught a few manners? A lady doesn’t like to be gossiped about.”

Aster coughed into one paw. “I, ah, understand the odds are heavily in your favor.”

“That’s not the point, Bunny.”

He shrugged and followed her. “It means they think you’ll win his affections though. And approve.”

Tooth shook her head. “Go save Jack from Quetza. We’ll have to set the tea aside for another day, at this rate.”

He shrugged again. “Eh. Tea first. Not like Jack can’t hold his own.”

“And he doesn’t feel the humidity?” she suggested, with a sly little smirk.

 

“Tooth, he spent a month in the desert, fighting a storm, not too long ago. I think his humidity sensors are screwed up. He didn’t notice a change when we first came out of the hole earlier. I still don’t think he’s noticed.”

 

“Oh,” she said, and blinked. “In-built air conditioning?” She tilted her head, and added, “Could be useful.”

 

“It’s nice in the nest-”

 

“Oh, in the _nest_.” She nodded. “Quite. Quite. _Indeed_. Just so, Bunny. Mmhm.”

He grunted. “Shaddup. You know what I mean. And it’s not like you don’t call _yours_ a nest too.”

“I suppose,” she admitted. “Though at least _I_ don’t have sexcapades in a friend’s sleigh. Really!”

“Jack did suggest sex on your sofa. I shot that one down right quick.”

Tooth looked smug. “I’m faster than North is.”

“So I reminded him.” Aster grinned at her as he opened the door, gesturing her forward first.

“Well, I _do_ cover the entire world every night,” she reminded him, and sauntered in through the doorway. She fluffed up her feathers. “Do you feel… cold… what the…?”

Aster suppressed a snicker. “What is it?”

“I’m not…” Tooth moved over to one of her wall hangings. It was currently upside down and frozen in place. “My furniture…”

Aster couldn’t help himself. “Look up.”

She did, and gasped. All of her furniture, on the floor, had been replaced with ice sculpted replicas. The actual furniture was frozen to the ceiling, in exactly the same configuration as it usually was on the floor. Jack had outdone himself, with that.

A snicker escaped. Tooth turned on him instantly and narrowed her eyes. Uh oh.

“E. Aster Bunnymund! You - you and Jack - ooooh, when I get my hands on you!” She buzzed her wings in genuine threat, and flew at him.

“Ah-” Aster said, edging towards the open doorway. “Just remembered I left the kettle on, I should be going… ack!”

He threw himself out the door and over the railing, calling, “Jack! Time to go!” as he fell, fumbling around for one of the eggs that would open a tunnel without him having to tap his footpaw.

Jack flew by, laughing even as Aster threw the egg, and they disappeared into the tunnel, landing in a pile of lanky limbs and fur. The hole closed above them before Tooth or Quetza could catch them.

“Why’d I agree to this again?”

“Because you love me, duh.”

Aster sighed. “Too right.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Sunday, 7 July 2013 -- Warren, 5:28 pm local time**

“You’re an evil bastard,” Aster said, smiling faintly. His mate did a quick soft shoe - without the shoes - across the floor, finishing with a showy spin.

“What do you want for dinner?” Jack asked. “I’ve got an idea for North, again, and it’ll need our strength. And cunning.”

Aster meandered into the kitchen, pausing to ruffle Jack’s hair and then kiss him when he opened his mouth to protest.

“I’m thinking… spaghetti. And yes, you can have your strange faux-meatballs.”

“They’re not strange,” Jack protested, and frisked around Aster to head straight for the cellar. “I’ll make the sauce.”

Aster was still rummaging around the kitchen when Jack returned. And sighed.

“The noodles are on the other side of the kitchen. Second cabinet, third shelf.”

“Did you reorganize?” Aster was reasonably suspicious; he hadn’t changed where he kept anything in his kitchen for… centuries.

“No, you’re just old.”

By which Jack meant ‘senile’. Bastard.

“Oi!”

“It’s okay,” Jack assured him. “I love you anyway, and besides. The grey adds dignity.”

He grumbled, “I’ve always been grey….”

The gumby paused, and then set the tomatoes on the chopping block. “Y’know, I had this mental image of a dignified baby rabbit in a diaper… kinda weird.”

Aster snickered despite himself. Jack did a little fist pump.

“Hey now, Pooka didn’t have diapers.” He frowned when he found the noodles exactly where Jack had said they were. _Exactly_. “How do you know my kitchen better than me?”

“Bunny…” He looked ‘round in time to catch Jack’s fond smile, and equally fond head-shake. “Cottontail, let’s not go there tonight, okay?”

He set the noodles on the counter and snagged Jack around the waist, hugging him from behind. “Stalker,” he said fondly.

“Yours,” Jack agreed. “No one else was half as interesting.”

He chinned Jack’s head, feeling smug, and turned to doing his part for dinner. In short order, they had spaghetti. Aster had whipped up some garlic bread to go with, and Jack only rolled his eyes - this time - at the ever-present salad that spawned as if by magic in the time it took the sprite to set the table.

“So,” Aster asked around his first mouthful, pausing to hum happily. “El-Ahrairah, you make such a good sauce.”

Jack waggled his eyebrows. “ _Really_ now? Tell me more.”

He waggled his eyebrows back. “Still don’t know if it tastes better’n you though. We’ll have to compare, later.”

“Just so long as you don’t decide to combine the two,” Jack said, laughing. “I draw the line at that sort of thing. Besides, the mess would be impossible to clean up.”

Aster sniffed. “Yeah no. Chocolate, someday, maybe. Or whipped cream. But not sauce.”

“Let me get a maid, or at least a laundry service, before you pulled out chocolate and whipped cream,” was Jack’s only request.

He smirked, and then went back to his original question. “So. North?”

“Oooh, right! So, the sex in the sleigh was fun, but kind of uninspired. Anyone could’ve done it. But now I’ve got an idea that’ll really get his goat…” Jack leaned forward, shirt very much at risk from his full plate of spaghetti, and spoke fast.

Aster’s grin grew to blinding proportions as Jack explained.

Oh yes. Very fun indeed, his mate was.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Monday, 8 July 2013 -- Workshop, 12:14 am local time**

“ _Sing us a song,”_ Jack crooned, _“You’re the piano man. Sing us a song tonight. Well we’re all in the mood for a melody, you’ve got us feeling alright.”_

North shot Jack a narrow-eyed look, and then down at the glass. “I suppose I should forgive you,” he grumbled.

“What?” he asked, slurring the word so it sounded more like ‘waaaaa’ than anything else. “S’okay.”

“Yeah,” Aster said. “I’m cuttin’ you off.”

“But Bun-Bun!” Jack flopped on the couch next to the Pooka, rolled over and looked at him upside down. “Why you upside down?”

“So many answers,” he said, and sighed. “North, we’re real sorry about the sleigh.” He freed the glass from Jack’s hands, and set it out of immediate reach. “I should haul this sorry brat off to the Warren now…” He grimaced.

North eyed Jack again. “Nonsense. He’s obviously in no condition to travel. You stay; I insist.”

“Figured you’d rather see our backs,” Aster said, unable to completely hide his surprise. “I mean, considering…”

North shifted awkwardly. “Speak no more of it. Water under bridge. And stay,” North added, gesturing at Jack. “He could use sleep, obviously.”

Jack was snoring.

“He’s not the only one,” Aster admitted. “Think I’m getting old. Alright. Same spare room, then?”

North nodded, and offered help carrying Jack, but Aster just flexed his extra arms for emphasis and then lifted Jack effortlessly, grabbing his staff with a spare hand. “We’ll retire for the evening then, if ya don’t mind?”

“Go, get out of my beard.” North waved one hand in dismissal. “I will be to bed soon myself. This бесполезный sun has been causing usual trouble with sleeping. Bah. Perhaps I should take summer home in place where sun _sets_ , yes?”

Aster snorted and then shuffled off down the hall to the guest wing. As soon as the door to the bedroom closed, Jack ‘woke up’ and hopped out of his arms, stretching like a cat.

“You’re distracting,” Aster commented, staring even as he settled on the bed.

“I’m supposed to be. Think North believed the act?” Jack flopped down next to Aster, and began rubbing his toes against one furry calf.

Aster purred softly, noting, “I think so. But did you have to sing so off-key? I know you can do better.”

“I was ‘drunk’,” he pointed out, complete with air quotes. “Off-key is required.”

“S’pose. So. We gonna wait for the middle of the night?” he asked, snagging the wayward foot and pulling Jack bodily up against him, and curling around the slight body with all his arms.

Jack snuggled back against his chest, saying, “Middle of the night should be good. I know everything tends to die down… we’ll just have to avoid the occasional elf and the night security.”

Aster nodded. And then his hands began roaming. “ _However_ will we pass the time?”

Jack looked innocent, and pulled away. “Don’t worry, I thought about that.” He turned, and bounded to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room. He fiddled around in one of the drawers, and then pulled out a pack of cards.

Aster eyed him dubiously.

“Strip poker,” he said. “Put some clothes on, furry.”

The Pooka brightened considerably and rummaged around for some spare clothes in the dresser. He ended up just throwing several North-size sweaters over his body, which hung down nicely to cover his groin and upper thighs. Aster also managed to find a pair of enormous socks that actually fit. Barely.

“Why’s the bloke got to be so _huge_ ….”

“I dunno,” Jack mused, and began shuffling the cards. “He’s got small feet.”

Aster shrugged, before grinning. “I bet your starkers first.”

“Loser bottoms?” Jack offered.

Aster snorted. “Like that’s ‘losing’, but sure.”

“You’re on.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Monday, 8 July 2013 -- Workshop, 8:22 am local time**

Aster felt Jack stretch and arch against him, and purred without bothering to open his eyes. His shoulders ached, which meant the six arms would soon go back to only two. “We never pranked Sandy,” he murmured, and nuzzled Jack’s hair.

In hindsight, the loss of the six arms was a bit of a pity; Jack sure appreciated them, and was surprisingly able to… ‘handle’ him, despite Aster’s initial misgivings.

Jack yawned expansively, throat bobbing in a distracting fashion. “Oh well. We’ll get him sooner or later, even if the arms fall off before then.”

“Hey now, they don’t ‘fall off’. I’m not a bloody insect, shedding parts everywhere,” Aster huffed, mock-pouting.

“You know what I mean.” Jack rolled away, hissed once, and then laughed. “Wow. Multicolored neck.”

Aster eyed his handiwork smugly. “You look a right mess. I like it.”

He got up and wandered over to cuddle Jack to his chest. “Mine,” he said, nuzzling at the aforementioned hickeys on Jack’s neck.

“Yup. Pity the bruises don’t show on _you_ ,” Jack replied, and pinched right where his hands had been digging into Aster’s hip the night before. “Maybe I should shave you bald…”

Aster hummed at the hand placement. Yeah, sore. Good sore. “You bring a razor within ten feet of me, and I tie you down and tease you mercilessly.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad-”

“And not let you come. _For hours_.”

“That does sound bad,” Jack said thoughtfully. “I’ll have to think about that.” He grinned, and looked around. “Now where’d my clothes go…?”

“Your pants are on the lamp-” Aster started to say, but was interrupted.

By an air horn, which was immediately followed by the sounds of startled yeti.

“-You might want to get dressed now. Like, yesterday, mate.”

“What, you think running out naked wouldn’t send the right message? Like ‘I wasn’t expecting that what the hell?’ maybe?”

Aster chuckled, and shook his head in the negative. “Jackie, this is you we’re talking about; North’ll know who to blame as soon as he sees his office.”

“I think he’ll like it,” Jack said, but he pulled on his pants anyways.

Aster watched Jack dress with interest.

“What?”

“I still don’t know how you manage to not wear skivvies with those things. Don’t they hurt at all, with how tight they are? Not that I’m complaining; I like how they show off your arse.”

“Practice,” Jack said, and sniffed. “And anyways, we were too poor for me to have underwear, most of the time. As a kid, I mean.”

Another air horn. More muffled Yettish cursing. Jack giggled. It was swiftly followed by two more, and that finally got an answering Russian bellow.

“Ah. North’s up,” Aster noted off-handedly as he pulled on the few accoutrements he wore the evening before.

Not including North’s borrowed sweaters, that is. He wasn’t about to go wandering around in public in _those_ eyesores, thank you very much. Still, last night had been fun.

In more ways than one.

Oh so many more.

“So Frostbite. D’ya wanna just waltz out of here, or wait for the angry Russian to show up at our door?”

“If we wait, we can’t see the reactions,” Jack reasoned. “Let’s go. Cover me.”

Aster nodded and followed. They made their way out to the railing, which, being the guest wing, overlooked pretty much the entirety of the Workshop. North thought it was impressive; Aster just thought he was being a blowhard, but it was useful to witness the fallout of their midnight handiwork.

He leaned on the railing, and smirked. North slammed open a door, as he usually did - and an air horn blared. Jack had managed to find - or bribe Weyland into making, he wasn’t sure - horns that sounded like barge horns. They had hidden them around most of the of the doors, and on a select few chairs that North preferred. Utterly hilarious, in Aster’s opinion.

North’s cursing was uncreative, due to the early hour, but heartfelt.

“Oh! Aster, he’s heading for his office!” Jack whispered, practically vibrating in place, he was so excited.

“Be ready to run,” Aster said, more or less laconically.

“Well, _duh_. I just wish I could see his face when he sees the Easter-themed wrapping paper covering everything in his office-”

A startled string of Russian cursing sounded from down below, and then the still-pajama’d - and very much an eyesore - North ran to the lower railing and looked up, glaring and pointing. “You!”

Jack grinned cheekily. “Me.”

“Hold still,” North growled, and started for the stairs. “You and I need to have _talk_ , Jack Frost!”

Jack whispered out the side of his mouth, “Anytime now, Aster. Make-y the hole-y.”

“I don’t think now’s the right time for sex.”

Jack stared at him like he was starkers. Aster just laughed and stepped to the side, tapping the floor with his footpaw as North came bounding up the staircase. He’d somehow found a sword on his way up, despite the armory being on the other side of the Workshop.

They knew; they’d _checked_ , for safety.

“Goodbye, North,” he said, feeling quite pleased with the world. A long night with his mate, a few harmless pranks on one of his more annoying friends, and now a lovely day to spend at home in lockdown.

“Later gator!” Jack called as he dropped in behind Aster, the hole closing on the sound of more Russian being bellowed at top volume.

Jack fell over giggling. Aster joined him after a moment of staring.

“You realize we’re going to have to set the Warren to def-con one, right?” he asked, making himself comfortable.

Aster grinned. “Yeah. As you’d say, ‘totally worth it.’”

Jack returned the grin. “Totally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> North's Crazy Russian Dialogue:  
> Мой санях! Мой санях! = My sleigh! My sleigh!  
> Вы вернись сюда! Сначала я буду шкуру вас, то я буду бить тебя, то Я произведу вам очистить вашу беспорядок! скот! Монстры! Ублюдок! = You come back here! First I'll skin you, then I'll beat you, then I will make you clean up your mess! cattle! Monsters! Bastards!  
> Вы находитесь помрем! = You are dead men!  
> бесполезный = (generic swear word is generic)
> 
> Kayasurin's Commentary: "The greatest difficulty in playing strip poker, is in getting the person who normally wanders around wearing nothing but their fur, to wear clothes. Thankfully Jack's a good motivator."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "... they forgot to prank Sandy. Silly buggers. Guess they'll have to figure something out later."


	33. Chapter 33

**Tuesday, 16 July 2013 -- Fortress, Antarctica, ‘sometime vaguely nightish’ (according to Jack)**

Jack looked exasperated. “Gems of power,” he said. “Can I destroy them all?”

Kern sighed. “From Apedemak’s belt, yes. And no; they’re to be collected and studied. The fire gems number four; seven others enhance various physical attributes. Odin wants to see if we can’t work out the enchantments for our own use. Apparently, the Meroë enchanters had some unique tricks.”

“I thought the terrible duo were handling this.” He’d gotten the reports from Brenda and Vahan once a week like clockwork. “So that I don’t have to.”

“They were… damaged.”

“Damaged.”

“That’s what the report said.” Kern shrugged. “The medics don’t know how to explain it, but they’re at least healing. Slowly.”

“And, what, I’m the one who’s supposed to go after it next?” Jack glowered down at the paperwork. “According to Vahan, part of the _damage_ happened to _little Vahan._ ”

“You, me, the kits, and - knowing your mate - Bunnymund.” Kern coughed into his fist. “You know he won’t let you handle things on your own, half the time.”

“No Aster. Aster is staying out of this one.” No way was he risking Little Aster to unspecified ‘damage’.

Kern held up his hands. “You’re telling him. Not me.”

“You betcha.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Wednesday, 17 July 2013 -- Somewhere in the Congo River Basin, Central Africa, ‘noonish’ (according to Jack)**

“How’d you get Bunnymund to stay behind?” Kern queried idly, as they poked around the last place the duo of idiots with ‘gems of power’ had been sighted at.

“Told him Vahan was almost castrated and one of us needed to keep his balls.”

Kern paused and stared at Jack, shifting awkwardly. “... right. Nice lie. Very… disturbing.”

“And if it happens to be true, so long as they’re not cut off, he can fix it.” Jack grinned to himself.

Kern shuddered, and then placed a finger on his earbud. “Raijin’s found something.”

“Something more interesting than ganky bedsheets?” Jack considered poking the pile of laundry with his staff, but he might catch a disease. A horrible, flesh-eating disease. “This is disgusting.”

“Too right. Shall we go look? It’s… unusual.”

“Unusual?” he perked up. “Ganky bedsheets, disgusting. Unusual, possibly interesting.”

Jack hopped into the air and flit across the mile or so separating Kern and himself from the kitsune. Kern stepped out of a nearby tree as Jack landed.

“Huh. Ruins? Cool,” Jack said. Expansive ones, at that. “What’s got your knickers in a twist, Raijin?”

Kern looked at him funny.

“What?”

“‘Knickers?’”

“Shut up, it was a totally valid word fifty years ago.”

“You’re spending too much time with Bunnymund.”

“Oh, like the rest of WINTER is totally current with the lingo.”

“Point.” Kern shrugged, and then turned to the kitsune. “Hey, Rai. What’s up?”

Jack very deliberately didn’t roll his eyes, but he did gesture to his ring finger and raise his eyebrows at the kitsune, who shook his head and mock-pouted. “Drat,” he muttered, and shrugged. Oh well.

It was unusual for any of the kitsune to allow such shorthand names without such connections, but maybe Kern was just… special. Or being a doofus.

Either or.

“ _Taishou_ ,” Raijin greeted Jack, bowing slightly. “Over here, Kern-kun. Nami-chan found an… odd hole. Or three.”

“Holes,” Jack said, utterly deadpan. “Alright, let’s look at the holes.”

Of course, a minute later, he saw their point. “One fire, two smash,” he said. “Great. Flame-brain and at least one moron with a power belt. Or maybe one guy with both? Can they double up like that? If he’s wearing an orange gi and calling himself ‘Son Goku’, forget it, I’m sending the idiot brigade ‘cause I’m not putting up with that.”

Just then, Izanami came skittering over the top of the ruins. “ _Taishou_ , I found them!”

“Them? Them what? Look, are we going to be dealing with the cast of Dragon Ball here? Or Dragon Ball Z? I refuse. I seriously freaking refuse because that’s nothing I accept in my world.”

Raijin and Izanami giggled, but Kern looked confused. Of course, trust the deer to not watch the shows his lovers did.

“Nevermind. Them, Izanami?”

She nodded earnestly. “Yes, _Taishou_. Two spirits. With gems. They seemed to be… practicing, is word?”

“Yup. That’s the word.” Jack sighed, and shook his head. “Let’s go look.”

The group of agents crept carefully over and around the ruins, the kitsune falling to all fours to navigate more stealthily. Kern shifted from tree to tree, peering out of the branches every few feet; the ruins were thankfully quite overgrown with foliage, so there was no shortage of trees for him teleport between. Or use, if it came to fighting.

Jack had both the easiest and hardest time; he was able to make his way through the branches, and it wasn’t like people looked _up_. On the other hand, even with cameo face paint, he was pale and easy to spot. The paint never stuck; between his habitual cold and ‘magic aura’ as Weyland put it, it flaked off within minutes.

Attempting to dye his hair just resulted in black stains everywhere _but_ on his head and skin. _Regardless_ of the color dye. Though maybe Aster’d have some ideas; he’d never thought to ask.

_Now’s not the time, Jack,_ he scolded himself for his distraction and returned his attention to the task at hand.

Which had just gotten a whole lot more annoying. Stupid bramble-y plants.

“Kern?” he whispered.

“Yeah boss?”

Jack refrained from rolling his eyes. Only just. “Can you pull me around the prickly ones?”

Kern’s head poked out of the branch next to him. Jack refused to let that startle him. “But you hate that.”

“I hate the prickles more. So. Pull me past them.”

Kern nodded and a branch - no, his hand, sort of - reached out and wrapped around his arm. And then Jack was being pulled _through_ the tree and it. Was. Just. So. _Weird_.

And then he was on the other side of the prickly plants. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks Kern. And thanks for not making it last forever.” He hopped to a new branch, crouched down, and spared a wary thought for the Wind’s location. She hadn’t followed him here - he hoped - and he really, really hoped she wouldn’t show up and solve the issue of the power gems by eating the two spirits. She was big enough already.

Jack felt, more than saw, Raijin appear at his elbow. “ _Taishou_ , they’re just around the bend up ahead. Nami-chan says they keep bashing through things and moving in a generally eastward direction through the ruins.”

“What’s to the east?” he asked. “Anything interesting-slash-vulnerable? Other than the ruins.”

Raijin held a paw to his earbud, nodding slowly. “Nami-chan says something about a fountain that still works, despite it’s age? It looks nearly new.”

“I… a fountain?” Jack paused, and his eyes widened. “Okay. I’m not entirely sure, but we really, really have to keep them away from it. Okay? Vital.”

Raijin nodded. Kern poked a hand out of the tree, giving him a thumbs up. Jack still didn’t understand how the earbuds worked while Kern was _in_ the wood.

Jack took a deep breath, and concentrated briefly. “Let’s go.” He stopped jumping from branch to branch, and started flying around the branches, as fast as he could safely go. Broken ribs were never fun, and giving them to himself was worse than having someone else beat him up.

Besides, his ribcage still ached a bit. Aster wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if he broke them _again_ so soon.

Up ahead, he could hear the sounds of crashing masonry and laughing idiots. Right.

_Show time._

“Hello worthless peons!” he shouted, diving down and doing a fancy flip-and-land. The two spirits - he mentally dubbed them Ugly and Uglier - turned and glowered at him through puffy, black eyes. Caused by their own stupidity, of course. They were both over-large muscled somethings, vaguely resembling everything and nothing at the same time.

Ugly growled and flicked a small ball of fire at him. Well ‘small’ was maybe too generous - it _was_ baseball-sized. Uglier turned and started to pick up a large piece of debris. Some sort of stonework, covered in vines.

“Kern! Stop that one!” Jack shouted as he deflected the fire-baseball, immediately shooting a blast of ice at the spot where it landed.

No need to start a forest fire.

Kern flicked his wrist in a complicated gesture, and the vines started pulling the stone block back down; Uglier continued pulling up, snarling at the plants. In a contest of strength, Uglier would probably win, eventually, if only because the vines weren’t _that_ durable.

“Hey, hey, that’s probably a national monument of some kind. Put it down.” Jack threw a baseball-sized chunk of ice at Ugly, and skipped around to kick at the back of Uglier’s head.

Fortunately, his foot connected.

Unfortunately, his foot connected.

_Ow! What the hell is his head made out of…? Diamond?_

Or stone, apparently. At least, that’s what it sounded like up close when he turned and bellowed at Jack. Loudly.

_Double ow._

Jack gave him a faceful of frost for his efforts. He wasn’t pleased with the offering. Go figure. Uglier gave up on trying to pull the stone away from the vines and took a swipe at Jack, who dodged handily.

Right into Ugly’s line of fire. Whoops.

Jack ducked, but not quite fast enough. The scent of burnt hair followed him even after he iced a helmet in place to smother the flames.

“Am I missing an eyebrow?” he called out, sure _someone_ would answer.

Sure enough…

“Singed only, Taishou!” Raijin called, flinging one of his daggers at Ugly.

Aster was never going to let him hear the end of it.

“Damn it,” he muttered, gesturing at the dagger and icing it over as it flew.

Ugly managed to melt the ice off, but the dagger itself was more or less undamaged. And did a bit of damage, slamming into his shoulder like that and spinning him half-around with the force of it.

“Give up! Yield to WINTER’s mercy, and survive. Continue to fight and I cannot promise we will refrain from the killing blow!”

Uglier found a loose chunk of pillar and threw it at his head.

“Rude!” Jack called as he flit to the side, icing the pillar fragment over where it landed. See him try to pick that up again.

Kern gestured and several of the vines lept off the stone block next to Uglier, entangling his feet and pulling them out from under him. The cervid then heft his spear and shield and charged, leaping and stabbing downward. Uglier managed to block, but the blade left a nasty cut across one forearm. He snarled at Kern and clambered to his feet.

Did Uglier even know how to speak? All he did was snarl and growl.

“Watch out!” Jack skated by on a layer of ice, and did a fancy triple spin that ended in Uglier getting whalloped in the small of his back by a thin pillar - maybe more of a spear - of ice. Ugly went slipping into a tree, and staggered back a few steps… onto the ice.

His feet slipped out from under him, and he went down, hard.

Taking advantage of Ugly’s momentum, Jack curved the ice on the fly, sending him careening across the ground and into the iced pillar, where he froze him in place.

“Now stay,” Jack muttered, and turned towards Uglier. “Atta _aaaaaaack_!”

Izanami and Raijin threw more daggers at Uglier, which began peppering his flesh, making him look like a really sick porcupine.

He didn’t seem to notice, other than snarling and grunting and growling.

“Jeez, can’t you say anything else?” Jack taunted, earning himself a wordless bellow. He dodged spittle. “I guess not.”

Kern traded a few blows with Uglier, his shield taking the brunt of the blows, though he was pushed back at least a foot by each impact, carving long tracks in the loose dirt with his hooves.

Jack flung a few ice balls at Uglier and- was his ass getting warm?

Uh oh.

“I need a Kitsune on Ugly, stat!” Jack turned, just in time to see Ugly melt through the last of the ice, fling off a few remaining shreds, and bolt.

Well, at least he was running away….

Jack flung an ice patch ahead of Ugly, which sent him sliding back down the hill and crashing right back into the pillar he’d just vacated. He didn’t immediately move, though he groaned.

Jack turned back in time to witness something hilarious.

There was a fox. A frosted fox, with red fur tipped in white on every hair, that went to silver on the points. Three tails. Thumbs on the forepaws.

And a more mischievous grin than normally seen outside of WINTER’s April Fool’s contest.

Uglier never noticed the fox, even though Izanami came up to his waist while on all fours. She was able to tug and pull at his belt without his even noticing, until she freed the gem and abruptly bolted.

Jack would never, ever tell her, but that whole little thing had reminded him of seeing a fox steal a pheasant from a snare, out from under the hunter’s nose.

Uglier swung at Kern again and, this time when Kern blocked, _he_ rebounded off the shield, bellowing, “My hand!”

It had made the _most_ satisfying crunch Jack had heard in ages. Uglier curled up in a ball around his injured hand and groaned. Yeah, he was done.

“Give up,” he advised, and turned towards Ugly. No doubt that guy would want to cause trouble...

Though it looked like Raijin wasn’t about to let him. Jack grinned, and sauntered over to where Ugly was preparing some kind of ‘finishing move’. It looked, for all the world, like something Jack had seen in that stupid Dragon Ball Z anime - damn it, he’d warned the others he didn’t want to fight such insanity; they’d put in so much filler, _entire episodes_ had been of people screaming and preparing attacks.

“Oooh, big fireball, what’re you going to do with it?” he taunted, and leaned sideways on his staff.

Ugly roared and made the fireball even large - _so_ Dragon Ball Z… should he subject Bunny to that? - and then it popped with a cute little sound.

Ugly stared at his hands in confusion, and then slowly blinked down at his belt which was-

Missing. Ah.

Raijin was waving at Ugly from behind him, on a boulder nearby.

“Raijin, don’t mock the nasty spirit,” Jack chided, and then skipped forward - literally skipped - until he was pretty much nose-to-nose with Ugly.

“Yes, _Taishou_.”

“Are you going to give up?” he asked, grinning.

Ugly looked from Raijin - who was grinning brightly, the cheeky little bastard - to Jack, blinked slowly, then glanced at his friend - who was stomping around quite ineffectually - and then slowly nodded. And sat down with a loud thump.

“Good boy.” Jack looked over at Uglier, just as Kern lost his patience and knocked him out. Probably knocked him out, as compared to killing him. All the bits were still attached.

And oh, yeah, that was a snore. “Really?” he asked, and sighed.

“What?” Kern said, shrugging. “He was irritating me.”

“I’m not carrying him.” He poked Ugly with the end of his staff. “You, however, get to walk.”

Ugly grunted. Uglier snorted, and continued snoring.

Jack sighed. “Why me?”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Wednesday, 17 July 2013 -- Dungeons, Fortress, Antarctica, evening**

“C’mon, hurry up, soonest done soonest you can eat, sleep, and swap sad stories with your neighbors.” Jack sighed, and slouched along behind Ugly and Uglier. This wasn’t his job. His job was to hand the bad guys off to Thor, who was in charge of the lockup.

Instead, Thor was ‘too busy’, which meant he was talking with his lady Jane again on Skype and didn’t want to leave, and he really had to wonder why she hadn’t asked about the background, or the yelling, or the occasional Loki wandering by.

Or maybe she had, and that’s why she was trying to get assigned to an Antarctic science post. Either or.

Jack sighed again, and poked Uglier in the small of his back, with his staff. Because no way was he actually _touching_ the guy. “Hurry up, guys.”

Uglier grunted, but did pick up the pace. Ugly sighed morosely, dramatically so, and followed suit.

The other… inmates, Jack supposed… were being quite polite. Then again, they were used to Thor and Loki. Thor smashed disrespectful heads and Loki had access to hallucinogens, along with the rest of his bag of tricks. Respect was a style of life down here… might get a guy released on good behavior, now and again.

Jack turned the corner and had to shield his eyes.

Oh, right. Pitch was still down here. Ergo, bright, bright lights to banish all the shadows.

Still, ow.

“Hey Pitch,” he called. “How’s life treating you?”

Pitch glared daggers at Jack and turned his back, standing stiffer than a board. Spoilsport.

“Aw, don’t be like that. I’ll have to tell the other Regents that you’re being a stick in the mud,” he teased.

Pitch didn’t turn around. He did, however, mutter darkly, “When I get out of here, you’re the first one I turn into a Fearling.”

“When you get out of here, Pitch, Anika will chase you down and drag you back,” he replied easily. “Besides, if you come after me, what do you think Bunny would do to you? Attacking one of the Guardians?” He mock-shivered. “He’s scarier than you are.”

Pitch glanced over his shoulder and sniffed. His eyes widened comically. “You and - _the rabbit_?”

“Did you seriously pick that up from my _scent_?” Jack asked, gaping in disbelief, before shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “Of course me and the rabbit. Who else?”

“You have terrible taste. But I suppose I should already know that.” Pitch sniffed and turned up his nose at Jack, spinning back to look at the wall.

“Yeah, yeah… Grump.” Jack grinned to himself, and continued poking Ugly and Uglier towards their new home.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 18 July 2013 -- Warren, 3:45 am local time**

Jack’s office door slammed. One ear twitched, but Aster didn’t look away from the dinner he was cooking. Trying to cook.

He had a recipe and he’d follow it to the death.

He just didn’t normally cook this sort of thing. It was all some of Jack’s favorites… though why the American bastard needed to have a preference for _French_ cooking was a mystery for the ages.

And so what if he wanted to treat his own mate to a special dinner? It was his home. There was no reason to feel like there were judgemental eyes on him while he was cooking. After all, Jack had been out all day with his entire staff, on the promise that Aster would stay in.

He had. Well, mostly.

Did calling Sandy for a favor count?

He shook his head as he listened to Jack plop down at the table. His head thunked solidly against it a moment later. It didn’t count, he decided; Sandy brought him the special fruit, fresh off the vine, anyway. He really needed to get some cultivars of his own-

“Long day?” he asked, not turning away from the mako - maki? - rolls.

“Urgh.”

“Long day,” he confirmed, nodding. There. That was… one roll. _Do not swear at the food,_ he reminded himself. “Want to talk about it?”

Jack grunted and thumped his head against the table, but began slowly muttering about the long, terrible day. He seemed quite happy to get it off his chest. So happy, in fact, that he failed to notice what Aster was doing until he plopped the small platter of - _nori maki_ , that’s what he called it! - on the table.

Jack’s eyes went quite wide.

“Wow, did you make these yourself?” he asked, and promptly snatched up three.

Aster grinned and nodded. Good, Jack was distracted, maybe he could surprise him with the other food too. “I did. Enjoy. Don’t eat them all, though; there’s more where that came from.”

“More?” Jack mumbled. “I’m starving!”

“Good.” He paused, and added, “You’re missing an eyebrow.”

“Fireballs, remember?”

“Figure’d you’d like to know.” He didn’t mention the uneven, burnt patch of hair. Jack had surely seen that part himself, right? “How’d I do?”

“You will be chained to the oven to make more.”

“Those aren’t made with the oven-”

“Shush the logic; I don’t care.”

Aster chuckled and finished up the next course. Sabzi, it was called; an herbal salad, made with fresh pickings from his expansive garden, and topped with a light olive-oil-and-lemon-juice dressing. Olive oil he’d made that morning, and aged a bit magically, to taste.

He plopped two bowls down on the table, one in front of both of their places, and then the large bowl of salad. Jack paused, one roll half-inside his mouth.

“Chew and swallow before commenting, ice block,” Aster chided, hands-on-hips as he glared.

Jack made a show of chewing, and swallowing, and then pointed at the salad. “So, are you going to help with that?”

“When I’m finished cooking, yes. Help yourself.”

“That doesn’t feel right,” Jack complained. “I’d rather eat _with_ you.”

Aster turned to the ovens, where the last two dishes were cooking. “Didn’t stop you attacking the _nori maki_ like a man dying of starvation.”

“I _was_ dying of starvation. Besides, aren’t these appetizers? They’re what you eat _before_ you eat.”

He chuckled again, nodding. Jack had a point. The first timer dinged.

“Ah. Perfect timing,” he said, bending down to pull the main course out of the oven.

“Okay, I forgive you not eating with me immediately. That’s an amazing view,” Jack said. He heard cloth rustle as the drongo apparently shifted to get a better viewpoint.

He refrained from rolling his eyes and then - because why not? - he twitched his tail back and forth as he extricated the large flat baking sheet from the oven.

The euphoric sound Jack made when he did so was just a bonus. Really.

So was the subsequent gasp when he turned around with the pissaladière ready to serve.

“How’d you _know_?” Jack asked, looking equally divided between wanting to grope Aster - an expression the Pooka knew well by now - and wanting to stuff his face. “This is awesome… did I forget something?”

Aster grinned and shook his head. “No. I just thought I’d treat you; you’ve been working very hard lately. As for how I knew…” He paused, ears dropping slightly in embarrassment. “I, ah… asked Kern. He knew all your favorites, and recipes for them. Thought we’d try this first.”

“Aww, you asked Kern,” Jack teased. “Great. Sit down, eat. We can play footsie under the table.”

Aster grinned again. Damn, was his face going to be sore later, but it was totally worth it to see Jack light up like this. Good thing he’d just set dessert to bake right before his mate had returned; the smell wouldn’t give it away for at least twenty minutes.

Jack all-but-moaned when he took his first bite of the pissaladière.

“Aster. This is like sex in my mouth.”

“You’ve _had_ sex in your mouth,” Aster countered. “I don’t think it’s that good.”

Jack stuck his tongue out and went back to eating. Aster had to admit, at least to himself, the sounds Jack was making were… kind of orgasmic. He felt rather smug after that realization.

“So, clearly there won’t be leftovers,” he observed, helping himself to the meal. Not bad, he decided, nibbling one maki roll. He’d done pretty good for himself, it seemed.

Jack tried to agree around a mouthful of food. Aster shot him a mild glare and got flipped the bird for his efforts. Cheeky bastard.

“If you’re going to be like that, no dessert for you,” he said, amused despite himself.

Jack paused, eyes wide again. He swallowed carefully. “Dessert?”

“Mmhm. None for you. Atrocious manners don’t get dessert.”

Jack whined. “Bunny!”

“Good manners get rewarded,” he noted blithely and turned back to eating. Primly.

Jack looked around, and picked up the folded napkin beside his plate. “So, uh, what’s for dessert? You? Because I could totally go for a Bunny-dessert.” He leered, but also unfolded the napkin and laid it out over his lap. And then picked up a knife and fork, like a civilized person who didn’t eat sloppy food with his hands.

“Good boy. And that’s second dessert, if you prefer,” he said, winking at Jack. “But you’ll have to use your nose to figure out first dessert. No peaking.”

“But that’s not as fun as you telling me,” Jack complained.

“It is for me.” Smirking, he was doing it. He could tell, because Jack was eying him in mild distaste, an expression that only crossed his face when Aster smirked and it worried him.

“Oh, but… That’s a worrying look, Bunny-mine. Worry worry I do.”

He smirked wider, and went back to eating. Soon enough, he could smell the cobbler baking, though it would be at least a few more minutes before Jack could scent it.

“Should I be worried about the plotting rabbit or this supposed dessert?” Jack asked, pausing in his eating to rub at his singed eyebrow.

Deciding to take pity on his mate, Aster pulled a small device that looked like a cross between a pencil and a spatula - so Jack had told him - and tapped Jack on the eyebrow. It grew back, perfect and new.

“What the - hey, what?” Jack felt at his eyebrow, both of them going up. “Oh, cool!”

He tapped the side of Jack’s head for good measure. “There we go, good as new.”

“What was wrong with my head?” Jack asked, looking suspicious. Then he paused, and looked amused. “Don’t answer that.”

Aster simply smirked, and went about finishing his meal. Jack shot him another worried look.

“Bunny? Aster? Kangaroo?”

He made a show swallowing, just to needle at Jack. It worked; the sprite squinted at him in a mild glare.

“Yes?” he asked, ignoring Jack’s glare. “Frostbite, ice block, Jackie, most-annoying-and-beloved-part-of-my-life?”

“What was on the side of my head?”

“What _wasn’t_ is a more accurate question,” he replied, smirk returning full force.

“Hey!”

“Yes?” he asked mildly, spooning the last of his salad into his mouth and chewing idly.

Jack folded his arms, clearly sulking. “Maybe I shouldn’t have you for dessert,” he said, even as his toes started caressing the top of Aster’s foot. “Maybe I should make you sleep on the couch.”

And then his nose twitched, and he smelled dessert.

“On second thought, you’re getting all the sex. Is that really…?”

“If it is, do I get a second helping of this ‘all the sex’?” Aster teased, getting up.

“And thirds, and fourths, and- _oooh_ , gimme the cobbler!”

Aster rolled his eyes in plain view of Jack; seriously, he was like a five-year-old kit when it came to fruit cobblers. “One slice,” he said, and then amended. “One _large_ slice. You can have more for brekkies.”

“You want me to delay gratification?” Jack asked, grinning. He made grabby hands at the cobbler. “Seriously, me?”

“... _two_ large slices, and then there’ll be enough for brekkies still. Deal?”

“You’re my favorite,” Jack said, and actually clapped his hands when Aster started plating the slices.

“Five year old.”

“Takes one to know one. Gimme!” Jack practically yanked the plate out of his paw and moaned into the first bite, somehow _more_ orgasmically than he’d moaned into the strange pizza dish.

“Y’know, despite the noises, I don’t think you’re _quite_ appreciating the flavor,” Aster teased.

Jack paused and took another bite, chewing slowly this time. His eyes widened. “You promised not to go out.”

“Sandy did me a favor.”

“Oh…” Jack groaned, head tilting back. “Oh, this is so good…. Now I’m glad we didn’t prank him.”

Aster snickered. “You’re helping me find good marionberry cultivars the next time we’re out Oregon-way.”

“Wait, you mean we could have a permanent supply of these things?” Jack put down his fork. “Let’s go right now.”

“No. First, dessert. Then… _dessert_. If you’re still up for it; you do look quite exhausted, and there’s nothing less sexy than your partner falling asleep with your donger in their mouth.”

“Agreed. I bet you fall asleep first.”

Aster snorted. “Ha! I’m not the one that wrestled with a fire-slinging, ham-handed idiot and lost.”

“I didn’t lose. I won. I locked ‘em up and everything.”

“Then explain your eyebrow and the missing hair. _Which I fixed_.”

“I’m missing hair?” Jack clapped a hand to his head. “Oh, thanks. Uh, I ducked?”

“Poorly.” Aster rolled his eyes again. “Eat your food. It’s getting cold.”

“Considering he was aiming for my chest…” Jack forked up a mouthful of cobbler, and groaned again.

Seriously, that boy needed to sort out his sounds. Aster shouldn’t be feeling tight in his sheath from listening to Jack _eat_.

“Hurry up with that,” he said, and put his own fork to the side. Good cobbler, yes, but he wasn’t a bottomless pit like his mate.

Aster snickered.

“What?” Jack asked around a mouthful.

“Teenagers. Got a hollow leg there?”

“Always,” Jack said, and finished the last of his two slices. “Now, I think there was something about you, dessert, and your cock in my mouth?”

Aster grinned and all-but-dragged Jack to their nest.

“Good times,” Jack said, giggling. “Good times.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "The married schmoop at the end is my favorite, but Jack be badass and I always wanted to write a Coulson Short."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "I love the little bits of domesticity intermixed with the action. So much fun."


	34. Chapter 34

**Monday, 5 August 2013 -- Fortress, Antarctica, ‘why is it so dark at _noon_ ’ (According to Jack)**

“Why’re we bearding the deer in his den?”

Jack snickered. “Because he left files I need in here, and then was sent on a secondary assignment in my stead, as it was was my watch turn on you?”

“And you can’t make him play delivery boy _why_?” Aster asked. He sounded amused. More, he knew he sounded amused. Probably because he was amused.

“Because then I’d have to wait, and you _know_ I hate waiting.” Jack opened the door and flipped on the lights with a wave of his hand at the odd orb-thing Kern liked to use. It suffused the room in a soft glow, not unlike sunlight filtering down through a thick canopy in the deep forest.

Aster raised one eyebrow. Not a bad effect, all told, but he preferred the real deal. “We could be doing stuff to distract you while waiting,” he pointed out. “Instead, we’re here.”

Jack snickered again. It was then that he noticed his mate had that mischievous look in his eye. Uh oh.

“Jack…” he began warningly, glancing out into the corridor to make sure no one was sneaking up on them. “What’re ya up to?”

“Nothing,” he said, sounding far too innocent to be real. “Just, come on. Manilla folder, nothing written on it, probably under one of these piles of paper.”

Aster eyed the sprite worriedly, but turned to the nearest stack of folders - _of course_ they were all Manilla folders, and multi-colored eyesores to boot - and started rifling through them. Accounting sheets, field reports, Jack-Rabbit fiction-

_Wait, what?_

Aster opened that last one, and stared in confusion. Then flipped a few pages, and managed to somehow get more confused. “Jack?” he asked.

Jack started, and looked up from the report he’d apparently been engrossed in. “Uh, what?”

“The hell’s this, then?” he asked, and held up the folder. “Jack-Rabbit fiction?”

Jack blanched. “He didn’t!”

He grabbed for the folder. Aster let him take it. The sprite rifled through the pages, his face flushing in embarrassment as he read.

“Oh Polaris, he _did_.”

Aster shifted to peer over his mate’s shoulder. “I can’t make heads or tails of this bullpucky,” he muttered. “Hasn’t he ever heard of punctuation? Or spaces? Or spelling?”

“He’s… there’s a little fairy that does that for him. Obviously, since he sucks at it, but she’s apparently not touched this paperwork. My god, Aster, can you even _do that_?” Jack said, pointing at one particular passage.

“Do what?” he asked, wary even before looking at said passage. It took a bit to figure out which word was what, but when he had, his eyes widened until it felt like they were about to pop out of his skull. “Uh. Well. Uh. I’m not crazy, so… maybe?”

Jack glanced at him. “We should test that theory out, later.”

“But what _is_ this tripe?” Aster persisted, gesturing at the paperwork in consternation.

Jack cringed. “Okay, well… Uh. It’s called ‘fan-fiction’. Um… how do I explain this… You know your love for Lord of the Rings?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, some people aren’t satisfied with what they get from the movies and books. They have ideas, things they want to write in that world… scenes they think will fit, alternate universes where the Fellowship was never broken…”

“Oh, like all those variations on Sherlock Holmes you keep showing me?” Aster asked, nodding his understanding.

“Yeah, exactly. Only a lot of the time fanfiction ends up, uh, shipping. Romantic, uh, romantic pairings. Shipping.”

Aster nodded his understanding again, and then paused. “Wait. So, you’re telling me Kern, he, ah, ‘ships’, ah… us?”

“Real person fanfic,” Jack agreed. “And being Kern, he writes about us having sex.” He looked down at the papers, and winced. “A lot of anatomically implausible sex.”

Aster glanced over the papers again. “Not… entirely. You just have to be, ah, _really_ flexible.” He read a few passages, cringed, and then perked up at the last bit. “Wait, can you even _do_ that to yourself?”

“Which… oh, this?” Jack smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” He paused, and added, “Can you?”

Aster smirked at Jack confidently in turn, and threw his own words back at him. “Wouldn’t _you_ like to find out?”

“I would, actually. We’ll have to revisit that question later.” Jack closed the folder, and tossed it on the desk.

Kern chose that moment to walk in. He froze when he saw the folder being tossed on the desk.

“Oh. Um... hi?” he said, waving awkwardly.

“Hi Kern.” Jack rolled his eyes. “I need a thing.”

Kern glanced at Bunny and _blushed_. Oh, this was too good!

“I, ah… what’d you need?” he asked in a rush.

“That folder of paperwork you were supposed to give me but never did.” Jack leaned back against the desk, smirking.

Aster cocked his hip and leaned next to Jack, turning his own smirk on the deer. Kern looked back and forth between them, threw up his hands, and snuck past them, gingerly moving the fanfiction to the side to dig out the required folder.

“Here it is. Is there, ah… anything else?” he asked, fidgeting with a random pencil he’d snagged off the desk.

“I got a question,” Aster said. “There a reason you’re so interested in our sex life?” He gestured between him and Jack, grinning.

Kern blushed again. It was kind of adorable, in the embarrassing-a-friend way.

And when had Aster started thinking of Kern in friendlier terms? He shook his head at himself. Will wonders never cease?

“I, ah, well… you see, um… the thing is, I, ah, noticed quite a while back that, uh, Jack liked you, Bunnymund, and, well, I’d heard _stories_ of your - your prowess, and well-”

“Kern,” Jack said, amused. “Stop. You’ve hit the bottom of the hole, it’s time to stop digging.”

“My prowess?” Bunny muttered. “Who the hell was bragging about that? Thought they were all figuring on me being a eunuch…?”

“There was a, ah, one spirit who’d said something about a fling, like, several millenia ago?” Kern shrugged, embarrassed beyond anything Aster had ever seen.

This was _too_ fun.

“Fling?” Jack asked, looking back at Aster. “What fling? Do I need to know about this fling? And maybe bring Fenris along for a friendly little chat?”

“If I can remember who it was, sure,” he said. “But I don’t remember any fling, which should tell you quite enough about _their_ ‘prowess’ in bed!”

Jack laughed. Kern snickered despite himself.

And then fidgeted again. “We, ah… guys? We good?”

“Someone needs to hit you on the head with a spelling and grammar book,” Jack said, “but we’re good. Just never, ever make me read one of your unedited reports. My eyes might bleed.”

Aster snickered, but nodded. “Yeah, deer-boy. We good. _For now_ ,” he added, and mock-glared.

Mock? Oh by El-Ahrairah’s balls, he was going soft on the crazy cervid!

“Ah, that’s, that’s good. Um…” Kern looked from them, to the door, and back again. “The kitsune are coming by soon,” he whined.

Jack grinned. “Going on a _date_? Or just the usual sexcapades?” he teased.

“Research for another of these Jack-Rabbit stories,” Aster decided. “C’mon. We’d better leave him to it.”

Kern flailed quite amusingly. “What? No! No, of course not! If you must know, I, ah… well, I got this for them.”

He held out a small box. A small, velvet-covered box.

“Do Kitsune do rings?” Jack asked. “Because past time, if you ask me.”

Aster took the proffered box and looked inside. “Huh. Good craftsmanship. Weyland? Or…?”

Kern shrugged awkwardly. “I know a guy. Goldsmith, spinner of all things amazing-”

“Wait. Wait wait wait,” Jack said, waving his hands around to get Kern to stop. “You _know_ Rumplestiltskin?”

“We chat,” Kern said, with dubious dignity. “Sometimes.”

Aster eyed the rings, and then closed the box, setting it on the desk next to Kern. “Obviously more than _sometimes_. That guy never gives up the gold without quality compensation. I’m… impressed, deerboy. Kern, you… well, you did good.”

He cringed internally at the very idea of complimenting the cervid, but it was proper and deserved. What was he to do?

“Now, we _really_ must be going,” Jack said, pushing the folder into Aster’s paws and shoving him towards the door. “You have… _things_ to plan, and we have… _things_ to discover, thanks to your wonderful writing…”

Kern turned bright red. “You _read_ the autofellatio…?”

Jack and Aster turned twin smirks on the old god. He dropped his face into his hands and groaned.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Monday, 5 August 2013 -- Warren, early afternoon**

Jack shoved away from the desk, and sighed, stretching languidly. Reports were the absolute bane of his existence. There was no way to make them interesting. Relevant was just barely possible, but ugh. Reports. Why couldn’t people just come and tell him what’d happened, instead of writing it out and making him read it?

Maybe what they needed was audio-reports. Audio-books were the best thing since Weyland discovered that generator thingy… audio-reports could probably be tolerable… he’d have to suggest it to Weyland when he remembered.

He dropped the file in his out-box, and glared at the in-box, _daring_ someone to drop in another piece of… _hello_ there, what was this?

Jack picked up the small box. Several bits of something rattled inside; he popped the top and looked in. And then grinned, remembering.

“Can’t believe I forgot,” he muttered, and headed for the door. If there were any more reports, they could just wait. He was done at the office for the day, and this was much more important, in his mind.

“Aster! Aster, where’d you go?”

Jack poked around the house, but the Pooka was nowhere to be found. He stuck his head out the front door and called for his boyfriend again.

“Oi! What’d’ya want, Frostbite?” came the faint reply from across the field in front of the burrow.

Ah. He was in the herb garden. Maybe he was planning a delicious dinner again? That’d been _awesome_ to come home too last month.

“That’s no way to talk to someone bringing you a present!” he called back.

Aster appeared as if out of nowhere. “A prezzie? For me?”

His nose was doing that cute wiggly thing. Jack suppressed a besotted sigh.

“No, for the other guy named Aster.” Jack smirked, and hid the box behind his back. “Go, shoo, I’ve got to talk to him.”

Aster mock-pouted - ‘mock’, because Jack had learned the difference by now, and suppressed a triumphant grin at that realization - and whined, “But _I’m_ the only Aster you know. Unless you found my evil twin.”

“... You have an evil twin? Like, for real?”

Aster shrugged. “It happens to everyone eventually. Gimme!” And he made grabby hands.

Jack dodged, grinning. “I want to meet this evil twin.”

“He’s stuck on the other side of a magic mirror, last I checked. Can I have the prezzie _now_?”

By Polaris, if Jack wasn’t so head-over-heels for this rabbit, he’d find the whining annoying. Instead, it was just adorable.

Still… “How old are you?” he teased. “That’s hardly adult _or_ polite, Cottontail. Dunno if I should reward bad behavior.”

Aster looked at Jack in askance. “Like you’re any better. Need I remind you of all the times you’ve behaved worse about my cooking?”

“Do as I say, not as I do. Besides, that’s _your cooking_.”

Aster looked immensely pleased despite himself. “Fine. _Please_ can I see the prezzie?”

The winter spirit laughed, and stopped hiding the box. “I think I’ve reversed your age,” he said. “Can you imagine yourself acting like this even a year ago?”

Aster snatched the present and gazed at it for a moment, before glancing up at Jack. “Nah, mate. But I was a stuffy old bastard back then; you’re a good influence. Or bad, depending on your point of view.”

“Can I have that first part in writing, where you call me a good influence? I might need it later,” he joked. “Okay, so, remember that trip I took to… uh…”

“‘Central Africa’, as I believe you vaguely reported it. I understand Odin about tears out his beard these days, with your vagueness.”

“Congo, right. Well, there were these ruins,” Jack said, ignoring the comment about Odin and beard-tearage. “They kind of got beat up, but the carvings were pretty neat. I figured no one would miss a few _small_ rocks.”

Aster hummed as he carefully opened the box, pulling out a shard to admire, and then just… stopped. And stared, wide-eyed.

“Uh, Bunny? Aster? Fluffy-butt?” Jack actually reached up and poked Aster in the forehead. “You there?”

Aster started, and glanced at Jack, his eyes refocusing in an instant. “Where’d you find these again?” he asked, putting the shard carefully back in the box and setting it on the side table in front of the burrow.

“Some ruined temple place in the Congo, near the river?”

Bunny spun suddenly and grabbed Jack by the shoulders. “ _Take me there now_.”

“Ack!” Jack clutched Aster’s wrists, and gaped at him. “Why? What? Why? That wasn’t _really_ the Fountain of Youth, was it?”

He wiggled one hand free and gestured at the shards. “Jack. That’s… that’s _Pookan_.”

“Pookan?” Jack frowned at the shards. And then looked at the nearest bit of stone carving waddling by. _You know you’re in love when you think the egg guardians are cute…_ “Bunny, were you worshipped as a god and never told me?”

“Not in Africa. _Now take me there!_ ”

“So… somewhere else, then, gotcha. Wait, what?”

“Jack, I _have_ to see these ruins! Please?”

When did Aster get so good at the puppy eyes look?

“Okay, okay!” He patted at the air in a reassuring manner. “Sure, absolutely, right now. We’ll take your tunnels. Congo, Africa. River basin. Keep your fur on, Fluffy, the ruins aren’t going anywhere.”

Despite his observation, Aster was practically vibrating the entire way there. When they surfaced in the river basin, it only took Jack a minute to recognize the terrain and direct his boyfriend in the right direction. Despite the Wind’s help, Jack had trouble keeping up with the Pooka.

“Excited much?” he called after the rabbit that was slowly increasing the distance between them.

He got a grunt in response. But Aster did slow down a touch, enough that Jack could catch up. Barely.

“Bunny, seriously, they’re not going anywhere!” Jack flew up over a tree, and pointed. “There, up ahead.”

Bunny shot forward, despite Jack’s protests, and began scrambling around the ruins, searching for… something. Jack alighted on a nearby branch and watched the increasingly-frantic search in bemusement. Aster abruptly stood up, stock still, holding another shard, and stared. He pocketed the bit of stone, and ran over to the side of the ruin, starting to feel around like some crazy person touching a rubber wall and -

“What are you doing, Cottontail?”

“Looking for the switch.”

“Switch?” Jack dropped down off his branch, and sent the Wind away with a casual wave. Not like she’d get into trouble. Probably. “What switch? Where switch?” He paused, and added, “Why switch?” Now, how did he add in who, when, and how…?

“Aha!” was his answer instead as Aster touched a small, unremarkable stone, and… nothing happened.

No, wait, scratch that. A small passageway just _appeared_ in the stone wall next to Aster, as if sublimating into thin air.

“Pooka technology,” Jack muttered. “Why can’t a wall just be a _wall_?”

Aster darted inside, and Jack followed at a more leisurely pace. Not like it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, as he so helpfully reminded the Pooka again. Not that he listened.

Inside, the passageway opened into a smallish chamber, with a central console-tower-thingy - honestly, it reminded Jack of the TARDIS, from _Doctor Who_ , but made of stone, or something very much like it, and he was emphatically _not_ mentioning that to Aster any time soon - and several… odd-shaped egg-things sitting in a ring around it.

“I demand a translation,” Jack said in his blandest voice.

Aster darted about the room, tapping on various… flat spaces. Panels maybe? Until one lit up. He sighed in relief and read the script that scrolled across the screen. He didn’t seem to notice as Jack came up to his right side, or when he poked the Pooka in the ribs. Hard.

Jack sighed. Right, nothing for it now. He willed a snowball into his hand, and blew on it so it glowed blue.

Then he threw it at Aster’s head.

A bit of snow probably got down one ear. Maybe. Whoops.

Aster twitched and sneezed, then turned to look at Jack with eyes unfocused for a brief moment, before they focused sharply on him. And then he grinned, ferally. Uh oh.

Jack abruptly found himself on his back, on the surprisely-not-as-hard-as-he-expected not-stone ground, an excited and happy Pooka nearly vibrating atop him.

“Hi,” he said dryly. “You paying attention to me now?”

“Jack! I might not be the last!” he announced happily.

“Wha - really? That’s great! … Where are they?”

He frowned. “The logs are… damaged. I can’t tell. Yet. Not here, for sure. But I’m not the only one to make it to Earth!”

He kissed Jack, hard.

“I like that last bit,” Jack said, when Aster pulled back. “Do it again.”

Aster grinned, and kissed him again. And then lower. And lower still.

Okay, so exciting news plus happy flakes equalled sexy times? Jack made a mental note to take advantage of that more often, because -

 _Oooh_.

Yeah. So abusing this another time.

“Lemme get my shirt off!” Jack propped himself up on his elbows. “Slow down!”

Aster nearly ripped the hoodie off, tossing it - thankfully undamaged, though Jack didn’t know _how_ \- over one of the egg-things, and then immediately latched onto a nipple.

“Wh - what are you, nursing?” Jack said between gasps. He clutched at the back of Aster’s head, breath more than just speeding up.

Aster nipped. And then licked, to soothe the ache. He then switch nipples and repeated the action.

“Bunny!” Revenge, he needed revenge, he needed… to get his fucking pants off before he lost circulation. “Off, off, off,” he chanted, and started fumbling at his belt.

“Jaaaack!” Bunny whined, pulling back a moment to stare at him, eyes blown wide in arousal. He glared at the pants, and did - _something_ \- and suddenly Jack was naked, and the pants had joined his hoodie. How in the world…?

“You’re very good at that,” he said. “You may continue. I’ll just lie back and let you get this out of your system.”

Aster immediately swallowed Jack’s cock.

Jack screeched and nearly came. He managed not to, but it was very, very close.

Aster pulled back after a few moments of _glorious_ suckage, with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Jack whined at the loss of the amazing mouth, which turned into a groan when Aster shimmed forward to press their cocks together and thrust against him a few times.

“Unless you brought lube,” Jack warned. “Don’t think you’re putting that in me.”

Aster smirked. “Nah, mate. Thought I’d-” His body shimmered slightly around his midsection. Rippled, maybe? Jack didn’t know - “- _demonstrate_ my flexibility.”

And then he went down.

_On both of them._

“Oh my fucking god,” Jack gasped, right before his eyes rolled back and every muscle went limp. “Bunny-Bunny-Bunny!”

Somehow, Aster managed to both thrust against Jack’s own cock, and suck on them both, at the same time. In rhythm, no less.

If Aster really _had_ been worshipped as a god in the past, it _had_ to have been as a sex god. Because, _oh my god_ -

And then Aster added a finger to Jack’s entrance, poking around gently, and rubbing at it in such a _lovely_ way.

Jack was aware, distantly, of someone babbling like a crazed, desperate thing. Poor guy, whoever that was.

Oh wait, he was the one making those promises and all.

Aster finger popped inside, despite the lack of lube - wait, he was _damp_ down there? Must have been saliva - ah! - and curled up to rub at Jack’s prostate.

If it’d been torture, maybe he’d have been able to hold out. As it was… Jack screamed, and might have actually blacked out for a minute there.

His back had arched so sharply his head banged against the ground, at least, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

When he came back to awareness of himself and his surroundings, he found Aster curled up around him, purring, and a delicious afterglow rippling through his body.

“Welcome back, love.”

“... sex god…?” Jack mumbled.

Aster grinned cockily. “What gave it away, mate?”

“... telling Kern… for his fanfiction…”

Aster laughed, and kissed him languidly. When he pulled back, his grin turned sheepish. “Sorry ‘bout the sudden outburst, Jackie. I don’t know what came over me.”

Happy flakes and exciting news. Jack smirked to himself. “S’okay. M’m good. V’ry good. V’ry, v’ry, v’ry good. Bu’ not moving. M’kay?”

“Want me to take you back to nest? I can carry you, all warm and snuggled against my chest, like I know you like, despite not wanting to admit it, and make love to you all over again…?”

Jack managed to find the strength to prop himself up on one elbow. “Do you not _breathe_?” he demanded, enunciating carefully. “Yeah. Carry me. More sex. This good.”

Aster laughed and gathered Jack’s clothes over one shoulder, and then lifted Jack into his arms, pressing him up against his chest as he dropped into a rabbit hole he conjured a moment later with the usual double-tap. Jack grinned sappily and gripped at the chest ruff weakly.

_Mmm, fur was the best._

Aster chuckled, and the sound vibrated pleasantly through Jack.

Sweet. No brain-to-mouth filter. Sex _god_.

Aster grinned cockily and strode home.

This was going to be _fun_.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Tuesday, 6 August 2013 -- Warren, “is it dawn already?” (According to Jack)**

Jack stretched, just a little, and smiled at the feel of fur against his skin. Comfortable lassitude held him in place, drifting on the sea of pleased exhaustion. Just a little rowboat on a very big sea…

Of course, it couldn’t last. His stomach made sure of that. At least it didn’t growl audibly.

Though, considering how much activity he’d done before collapsing into a boneless heap of pleased goo last night, he was kind of surprised he wasn’t hungrier.

Well. How hard would it be to sneak out of bed, get something to eat, then return and snuggle back up against his favorite Pooka and go back to sleep? He deserved a lie-in.

Aster hummed behind him, and reached out blindly with a paw, thumping the ground next to them. A little plant burst forth, bearing fruit. The adorable Pooka then snuffled against the back of his neck, holding him closer, if that was possible.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Jack asked, reaching over to pick one of the fruits. Looked, and smelt, like a peach. Tasted like one, too, but _so much better_ than any other peach he’d had before.

Snuffle snuffle. “St’y. M’warm.” Snuffle. “Y’smell good.” A ghost of a kiss fluttered across the back of his neck.

Okay, how was it he, Jack, exhausted and hungry, could sound more coherent than Bunny? “Not going anywhere,” he agreed.

Jack snuggled in and enjoyed a few peaches. That settled his stomach well enough for now. It was several minutes later when he chanced to glance down and witness Bunny’s hand rippling in that weird way, like yesterday.

“Ah, Aster-Bunny?” he asked, waking up _fast_.

Snuffle. “Wot?”

“Your hand is, um, rippling.”

Snuffle snuffle. “Jus’ m’shifting. Don’ worry ‘bout it.”

“Shifting,” Jack repeated, and reached back. He pinched Aster’s hip, hard. “Shifting?”

The Pooka twitched satisfactorily, and woke up further. He leaned over Jack’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. “Ow. What was that for?”

“Shifting?” he repeated, for the third time. “Rippling means shifting?”

“Uh, yeah?” Aster blinked a few times at him, blearily. “What, your famous WINTER documents on me don’t mention that?”

Jack rolled over, the better to glare. “They mention six arms on chocolate, not that you can do this shapeshifting thing without sugar.”

“Cocoa, actually. And Pooka are natural shapeshifters. We just need… stimulants, I guess you’d call it, to do more extreme things.” He shrugged. “I’m surprised you lot didn’t know already. It’s not like I hide the fact I can do it.”

“You’re probably very subtle about it, then. Why was your hand shifting?” Jack grabbed the limb in question.

Aster hummed and glanced down, wiggling the aforementioned digits. “Oh? Ah. Probably minutely adjusting the bones for comfort. It’s sort of a reflex.”

Jack blinked, and looked closer at the captive hand. “You have arthritis, don’t you?”

Aster shrugged. “Maybe? I dunno. My body corrects for that sort of thing automatically.” He smirked. “Betcha wonderin’ what else I can do.”

“Your stomach rippled yesterday,” Jack remembered, and smirked. “Right before you did that thing that belongs in Kern’s fanfic.”

His smirk turned cocksure. “Well, yeah. I had to remove a couple ribs, and shift m’organs around. Nothing unusual.” He shrugged. “Also adjusted the flexibility of the muscles to avoid tearing. Rerouted a few things. Probably some other stuff that I can’t remember right now. Unless I’m consciously controlling it, my body just responds to my desires automatically.”

Jack blinked. And then blinked again. And smirked. “Y’know, I can bend that far without removing ribs. Clearly, I am the more skilled of us two.”

Aster snorted. “Clearly, you are still a teenager in body, and should be grounded for your cheek.”

“Even if I promise to duplicate your effort on you later?” he asked, smirking.

Aster’s eyes dilated ever so slightly. “You think you can manage that? I’d like to see you try. Fail, but try.” He smirked again.

“What do I get if I win?” he asked, and carefully traced along one long ear.

Aster hummed pleasantly. “Whatever ya want.”

“Handcuffs?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Kinky.” And grinned. “If ya want.”

Jack shifted back with a pleased grin, which turned somewhat pained as his body reminded him that he’d been very active last night. Very good active, but now he was a bit sore. “Ah, maybe later, though. You were very good to me last night.”

Aster’s nose darkened slightly in a blush, though his grin was proud. “I’m still not entirely sure what came over me.” He began idly, and gently, running a paw over the muscles on Jack’s stomach.

“You were excited, then I hit you with a happy flake.” Best decision. Ever.

Aster chuckled. “‘Best decision ever’, as I think you might say.” The questing paw moved to play along Jack’s hip.

“Are you reading my mind?” He caught the hand, and chuckled. “And don’t say there’s nothing to read.”

“Okay,” Aster replied, blinking innocently. “I won’t _say_ it.”

Jack glared, but the effect was spoiled by his snicker. “Just you wait,” he said. “I’m going to get handcuffs on you, and _then_ we’ll see how cheeky you are.”

Aster glanced over his shoulder at his rump. “I’d like to think very cheeky.”

If his jaw dropped, at least Aster’s first reaction involved kissing instead of mocking.

Good kissing, too. Bonus.

Sometimes it was good to not have a snappy comeback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Are there more Pooka? Maybe. Is time passing by? Maybe. Is Kern going to get married? Maybe. Are any of these questions going to be answered? _Maybe_."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "The sex happened randomly as we wrote, but was very fun. Aren't those two just adorable sometimes?"


	35. Chapter 35

**Wednesday, 14 August 2013 -- Bennett House, Burgess, Pennsylvania, 2:21 pm local time**

Jack dropped out of the clouds above Burgess.

And was immediately hit by a wall of heat.

“How’s the weather?” Kern called over the earbud.

“Ugh” was his succinct description. Kern just cackled in his ear. He shook his head. Good thing Jamie called him; this was just uncalled for.

Especially on a day like today.

“You take care of your kids. We got your man.”

“Thanks Kern. Alert me if anything strange happens.” Kern snickered in his ear. “And I don’t mean cooking disasters. You know he’s experimenting.”

“You should not do that to rhubarb, that’s all.”

Jack smirked as he flew down a bit lower. “Maybe you should offer to help.”

He gestured wildly at the Wind and called up his cold. With the heat wave, there was no way he was going to bring snow and ice - at least not lasting - but he could definitely fashion a cool breeze to bring relief to the children.

“Oooh no, I’m trying to do _that_ again. Go, have your fun. We’ll be back here fighting kitchen fires and getting rid of smoke.”

“Fire? Smoke?” Jack asked, mildly alarmed.

“Kidding! Kidding,” Kern replied through the earpiece.

Jack sighed in relief.

“I hope,” Kern whispered as the line clicked off.

Jack rolled his eyes and continued his flight towards Jamie’s house, building the breeze as he went, poking and prodding at the local personifications as needed to get them to cooperate and maintain the breeze for the afternoon.

He sometimes wished he could watch the weathermen. Jamie assured him they had fits when he changed the weather on them. Maybe someday he’d camp out at one of the stations and mess with them. It’d be fun.

Up ahead was a bright splash of color, defiant against the heat. Multicolored helium balloons bobbed and swayed as the first edge of the chill breeze reached them. Streamers twisted through the air, from house to tree to fence and back again. Children of varying ages - Jamie had evidently petitioned for, and gotten, invitations for his friends, just so he’d have people his age to play with - ran around the background, shrieking with glee. Since they were armed with super-soaker water-blasters, Jack supposed they hadn’t noticed the heat so much.

Jack wasn’t minded to hover directly overhead, so he swooped down and landed on a sturdy tree branch, automatically balancing. Too many years perched in one or another of the Warren’s trees had him shifting to be better hidden by the leaves, while still having a good view of the backyard.

There was a small cluster of adults on the equally small porch, with glasses of some cold drink - judging by the pale pink color, probably Jamie’s mother’s ‘famous’ pink lemonade - talking happily about how the heatwave had broken so suddenly.

Children varying in age from Sophie’s just-five to Jamie’s ten-almost-eleven ran around with their water-blasters. The younger children carried the smaller pistols that needed refilled after six shots, so there was a steady rotation from the water fight to the small wading pool to refill.

Over to one side was a long table, covered in a simple white cloth, laden with presents. A sparkly paper banner hung over it, announcing “Happy Birthday Sophie!” to the world. Jack caught a glimpse of Jamie’s mother through the kitchen window, preparing snacks. The cake sat cooling off to one side.

Jack grinned, and leaned forward, jostling tree branches. One of the children - he couldn’t see exactly who, but it was either Pippa, armed with the largest water-bazooka he’d ever seen, or both the twins - turned to look while firing water indiscriminately.

And managed to soak the cluster of adults up on the deck. Quite spectacularly. One of them had foolishly worn a white cotton blouse, which promptly turned see-through.

“I am _so_ sorry!” Pippa shrieked. Right, must have been her, then.

One of the five year olds started jumping up and down, chanting “Mama got wet!” over and over. Then he ran over to the deck, and started shooting one of the women with his water gun, even when it was empty.

Someone coughed. Jamie, probably, since he was the one who spoke up next. “So, we can watch them,” he offered. “If you want to duck in, grab a towel. Or something.”

The adults milled about for a moment, and then headed inside. Jack took that as his cue to make an appearance.

“So,” he said, and dropped down out of the trees. “What’d I - ack!”

“... I completely did not mean to shoot you in the face,” Monty said, and ‘hid’ his water pistol behind his back. “Really.”

Jack froze the water and shook off the ice crystals, dry in moments. He eyed the kid. “Uh huh.” He formed a snowball. “Sure.”

Sophie saved Monty seconds later, by shrieking and running full tilt into his legs. Like a mini-linebacker trying to lay him out. “Jack!” she yelled, once the incoherent, and shrill, piercing sound had ended. “Jack you’re here! You’re here! Is Bunny here?”

“He’s cooking right now, but I promise to bring him by later,” Jack said once he’d recovered and could squat down to her level.

“You pinky promise?” she asked, and held up her hand, pinkie and ring finger extended.

Jack looped his pinkie around her finger. “Promise. Now, go shoot your brother.”

“Wha - Jack! No, Sophie, not me, not me!” Jamie ducked behind Cupcake, and got hit in the ear when she started laying down the water streams. “Traitor!”

Jack laughed and flit over the children, dropping snowballs that quickly melted on everyone’s head. “Water fight!”

The ensuing battle ensured the Bennetts wouldn’t have to water their lawn for a few days, even with the heat. It also ensured that everyone, Jack included, was soaked to the bone. He left the water as it was, for the moment, if only for the novelty value. Maybe later he’d wring his sweater out over Aster’s head, see what happened… Or maybe Kern’s, for more fun. Get back at him for teasing him.

Jack found a stool to perch on as the children ran inside to dry off. Shortly afterward, everyone piled back outside for cake and ice cream, and then presents. Jamie secreted a few slices of cake off to one side for Jack and Aster, when they came back by later. Jack grinned at the boy when he was informed.

And then Sophie opened Jamie’s present.

First, she gasped, eyes going very, very wide. Then she started to make odd squeaking sounds, which was apparently prelude to a very loud, very long squeal.

The second time she made the horrific noise, Jack was able to parse out a few odd sounds. It started with a ‘buh’, and ended with an ‘ee’ and in between was a lot of shrillness.

The third time she made the noise, he realized she was saying ‘bunny’. Really loudly. With a heck of a lot of extra syllables. And extremely high in pitch.

Ow.

“Jamie, you didn’t!” Jack called over. Jamie grinned at him and shrugged, right before he was bowled over by his sister in a hug.

“You got me a bunny!” Sophie bounced, jostling Jamie back and forth. “A bunny a bunny a bunny you got me a bunny thank you thank you thank you!”

Jack laughed as Jamie rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. Jack learned, later, that Jamie had promised to take care of the rabbit for her, since his mother didn’t have the time, and Sophie wasn’t going to be able to take care of the cage by herself. Or the litter box, once the rabbit was potty-trained.

Sophie ran back to the box, and lifted out a small, pale gray rabbit. It had a white belly, from what Jack could see, and was probably just old enough to be considered adult.

It was pretty obvious when Sophie made the connection between this rabbit and Aster, because her eyes gleamed and she started grinning like a maniac. More than she had before, anyways.

“Hop Hop,” she said, and very carefully hugged the rabbit to her chest. “His name is Hop Hop.”

“Uh,” Jamie coughed. “Her.”

“She’s a boy rabbit!”

“Y’know Jamie, Bunny can be whatever gender he wants. So can Hop Hop,” Jack noted dryly, giggling at the kids byplay.

Jamie shot him a dark look, and patted Sophie on the head. “Okay, Soph. Hop Hop’s a boy. Who’s gonna get spayed, right mom?”

Mrs. Bennett rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes.”

“Sprayed?” Sophie asked. “With what?”

Jack laughed as Jamie sputtered and redirected his sister’s attention to taking the rabbit inside to see it’s new home. Jamie wandered over after the adults followed the little children inside.

“You suck,” he announced. “First you turn on me in the water fight, then you don’t back me up when she calls the rabbit a boy. What gives? And… what did you mean about Bunny?”

“Uh,” Jack said, oh so intelligently. “The water fight was fun, and do you really want to explain the difference between boy rabbits and girls right now? She thinks it’s the fur color, you know.”

Jamie sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He eyed Jack expectantly.

“What?” he asked, looking innocent.

“Bunny? Gender? You’re holding out on me. Spill.”

Jack groaned, and rolled his eyes. “This is boring grown-up stuff, kid. Do you really want to know?”

“Yes! He’s the _Easter Bunny_. I want to know _everything_.” Jamie flushed. “Well… except for the naked parts with you.”

“Well, what if I said the gender comment applies to naked parts with me?” Jack raised his eyebrows.

Jamie blinked and flushed darker. “But that makes no sense. Either he’s a guy or a girl, right?” He coughed. “He _is_ a guy right?”

“Giant, alien rabbit,” Jack reminded him. “Yes, he’s a guy. For the time being. Do you want the gory details or can we leave it as said now?”

Jamie nodded sheepishly, and then grabbed onto something else Jack said. “Wait, _alien?_ No one said he was an _alien!”_

“No one told me, either,” Jack muttered, and stood up. “And my job was to become the Bunny expert. I’m going to go get him, okay? Save a slice of cake for him?”

“Already hidden in the back of the fridge,” Jamie announced proudly. “And I made sure it wasn’t chocolate, since you said he can’t have it often.”

“Yeah, the reactions tend to be interesting,” Jack agreed, smiling to himself. “I’ll be back in… I don’t know, shortly.”

Jamie nodded and waved him away, wandering back over to his friends who were playing some sort of board game in the shade. Jack flew off, grinning.

Yeah. Chocolate was only for _special_ occasions, alright.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Wednesday, 14 August 2013 -- Bennett House, Burgess, Pennsylvania, 5:57 pm local time**

“Bunny, look!” Sophie held up Hop Hop, beaming. “Jamie found him for me! Will Hop Hop grow up big like you?”

Jack sat giggling off to the side as Aster stared at the furry bundle in his favorite’s arms. He shot Jamie a mild glare over the fact that it resembled him. He knelt down.

“Nah, kiddo. I’m a special bunny, but I’m sure he’ll get big and strong like a normal rabbit should.” He sniffed. Huh. Female. Well, didn’t matter. She called it a ‘he’.

“Oh.” Sophie shifted her hold on the rabbit, and slowly stroked ‘his’ back. “Okay. How come you don’t wear clothes?”

Jack snorted. Jamie stifled a giggle. The other kids were too busy with their game - having returned to it shortly after a round of happy greetings when Jack and Aster arrived - to notice the byplay.

“I’ve got lots of fur, Soph. Don’t need clothes to stay warm unless I’m visiting Santa.”

“And you always forget your coat,” Jack mocked him.

“Oh,” Sophie said again, clearly thinking.

“Your little rabbit there’s much the same, you know,” he continued. “Don’t let him get out in the cold, but he should be fine otherwise.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, and started rocking the rabbit back and forth. “Bunnies don’t like the cold. You never visit in winter. Jack says you get cold foots.”

He shot a glare at Jack, who just continued laughing silently.

“Yeah. My feet get cold fast.”

“Then why are you always with Jack?” she asked, with perfect innocence. “He always has cold feet,” she confided, in what was probably supposed to be a whisper.

Jamie started laughing outright; Jack fell off the stool he’d claimed as a perch.

Aster’s ears flattened against the back of his skull. “Right, uh… well, y’see… Soph, you can’t really help who you, ah… love.”

His nose was bright red, wasn’t it?

“Like Mommy and Daddy?” she asked. “Gamma says Mommy shouldn’t be with Daddy because he’s a butt.”

Jamie snorted and fell over, joining Jack on the floor.

Aster snorted himself. “Is that so? Well, at least he doesn’t have cold feet.” He pat her on the head. “Wanna show me the - Hop Hop’s bed?”

“Okay!” She frowned, clearly sorting out how she could grab hold of him without dropping her new pet, and finally sighed. “You can’t hold my hand because Hop Hop can’t walk yet, he’s too small.”

He smiled softly at her. “That’s alright, Soph. How about I carry you instead?”

“Me and Hop Hop?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Yes please!”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“Cold feet, eh?” Jamie giggled, nudging Jack’s side.

Jack smirked. “Well, here, feel ‘em,” he said, twisting to press his toes into Jamie’s side, under his shirt. “Feel ‘em!”

Jamie shrieked as he bat at the feet ineffectually. “Aaah, Jack! Nooo!”

“Cold feet!” Jack yelled back. “Sucking all the warmth out of you!”

Jamie managed to scramble away after several futile attempts. He glared weakly at Jack. “You suck.”

Jack bit back an automatic answer, because Jamie was way too young and joking with him like he would Kern or the Kitsune was not a good idea. “Well, you asked.”

Jamie pouted for a moment and fidgeted with his shirt. The kid’s expression changed rapidly though, and he started shooting Jack odd looks. Jack knew the sign of a question when he saw it.

He sighed, and straightened up. “Alright, ask.”

Jamie blinked. “Uh, right. It’s just… I wonder how you two are doing, is all.” Jamie fidgeted again, and looked over at the other kids, who were still playing their game, and not coincidentally, away from Jack. “I mean, uh… right. Yeah.”

The winter spirit rolled his eyes, and stared over at the house. “Go on with the other question, James. You’ll only regret not asking.”

Jamie frowned at Jack’s use of his proper name. “I told you not to call me that.” He then cleared his throat. “Uh, right. It’s just… I - I mean, we, that is, all the kids - aren’t getting in the way of your time together right?”

His eyebrows winged up, and he blinked several times. “Look, kiddo. Bunny and I spend a lot of time together. Sometimes it’s nice to be apart. And I enjoy playing with you… you _all…_ so don’t worry, okay?”

Jamie nodded and glanced at Jack. “It’s just that mom complains when dad’s away on business trips. I thought that maybe we were demanding too much of your time.”

“Bunny and I have hardly been separated by so much as a long weekend,” Jack pointed out. “Besides, I’m more likely to complain about my work, then get upset about spending time with my _friends_.”

Jamie smiled at that and nodded. Jack had only a moment to frown before he found a water pistol spraying him in the face.

“Oh hoh,” Jack said, and wiped the water away. He formed a snowball in one hand. “That’s how it’s going to be, huh, _James_? Hold still!”

He snatched and grabbed the collar of Jamie’s shirt, and dumped the snowball in.

Cupcake and Pippa looked up from their game long enough to roll their eyes and sniff in eerie synchronicity. “You two are such dorks,” Pippa said, and pointedly turned away.

“Jaaack!” Jamie whined, wiggling to get the snow to fall out the back of his shirt. He grinned at Jack once that was done. “So, we good?”

“We’re good, kid,” Jack said, and ruffled Jamie’s hair.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Aster finished tucking Sophie in, kissed her on the forehead, and then double-checked that Hop Hop was safely in his - her - whatever’s - cage, before quietly padding out of the room. It hadn’t surprised him when Sophie started nodding off soon after they came upstairs. Away from the hubbub of Jamie and company, and her friends gone at least an hour before, it was no surprise she was tuckered out from the hectic day.

“Hey,” Jack said, and caught him at the foot of the stairs. “The parents are back, and chivying the kids off to their homes. I figure we’ll sneak in our goodbyes, then go?”

Aster ruffled Jack’s hair. “Sure.”

He took a few steps towards the back door, and then half-turned when Jack didn’t follow. “Jack?”

“Mm? What? Oh. Right.” Jack ducked his head and grinned, nonchalantly tucking his hands into his pocket. “Right. Leaving.”

Aster quirked an eyebrow. “Something amiss, mate?”

“Maybe we can talk about it later? Little pitchers have big ears and other cliches.”

Nodding, he looped his arm through Jack’s and gently guided him outside to see the children off.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 15 August 2013 -- Warren, 8:31 am local time**

Aster padded into the kitchen when they returned. “Want anything Jackie? I’m gonna whip up some tea for now. I’ll make brekkies in a bit.”

“Night in Burgess, morning in Australia. It’s a good thing I’ve adjusted to the time difference.” Jack grinned, and leaned back in his chair. “Tea’s good, if you’re already making it.”

Aster nodded and set about preparing the tea. Considering Jack’s mood, he went with a more relaxing blend than his usual for mornings. They existed in companionable silence - well, except for Jack’s occasional hum of appreciation when Aster bent over, but that was usual, if no less appreciated - until the tea was settled on a tray and they’d each gotten a cuppa.

Aster sipped. “Something on your mind, mate? You were quite distracted while we were leaving the Bennett’s house.”

Jack stared down into the depths of his tea cup. “Do you think about it? Having kids.”

Aster sputtered, never happier that he’d had the presence of mind to swallow before Jack replied. “I - wot?”

“Nevermind.” Jack set his cup down, and smiled, bright and artificial. “Forget I asked.”

Aster set his tea off to the side on the kitchen table and reached over, snagging both of Jack’s hands in his own; they went with little resistance. “Snowflake. No ‘neverminds’. It’s obviously bothering you.” He rubbed his thumbs across the back of his mate’s hands soothingly. “C’mon. Talk. Get it off your chest.”

“I -” Jack looked up at him, and then away, never a good start. “Well. I mean, I don’t, usually. But then you do something like… like tuck Sophie into bed, and, well. Nothing sexier than an already sexy Australian doing something parental.”

He smiled softly. “Well, I had a lot of younger siblings. Goes with the territory.”

“No kids of your own?”

Aster shrugged self-consciously. “Never got around to it. I’d… had my eye on a sheila when… Pitch happened. But no, no ankle-biters of my own. Half-dozen little siblings though, and nearly as many older. Bit of an age gap between me and the little ones, so I ended up half-dad at times.”

Jack squeezed his hands. “Me neither. Kids, I mean. I… I’m not sure I’m ready, but then I see you, and… I don’t know, I think I want to be ready?”

Aster smiled softly. “Well. I’m not a hundred percent sure if we’d be compatible or not - goodness knows, Pooka mated with _everything_ , back in the day, so it’s possible - but I do believe I mentioned I can have ‘lady parts’, as you so eloquently put it the other day, if we ever want to think about it.”

Jack made a face at him. “Fine, _you_ come up with a term for said female genitalia that doesn’t either a) belong in a medical textbook or b) make Tooth slap you.”

Aster snickered. “Right. So… is that what’s been bothering you? Or is there more?”

“It’s all I can put my finger on,” which wasn’t exactly an answer, but better than nothing. “Just. You know. Wondering.”

“Well, we don’t need to hurry none. We’re Guardians! We have nothing but time to figure this out.” Aster smiled encouragingly.

Jack half-laughed. “Maybe that’s the problem. I’m… not used to thinking too far ahead. More than a year or two, I mean. But, uh, just to satisfy curiosity, is there any way to check if we’d be compatible?”

Aster hummed and considered. “Y’know, I don’t think I have any of that old medical equipment just lying around anymore, but… oh! When we were at those ruins, I saw a ship’s manifest in the logs. They had a fully-stocked medical lab; I’m sure at least the parts I’d need are in there.”

His mate eyed him sidelong. “Is this just an excuse to go back there and rummage around?”

“That’s not the point.” Aster sniffed primly. “You asked, I answered.”

“In other words, it is,” Jack said, but he smiled when he did.

“Shut yer gob, cobber,” Aster chastened lightly, gently cuffing Jack on the side of the head. “Love ya, Snowflake.”

“Love you too, Bunny-rabbit, even if you do abuse me so.” Jack pouted, eyes dancing.

Aster smirked. “Oh, c’mere and give me a kiss.”

Jack was only too happy to oblige.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 15 August 2013 -- Warren, 2:04 pm local time**

“Jack? Where’d I put my…” Aster rattled off something musical and pretty, before pausing. And then sighing. “Tricorder?”

Jack snickered. “The one I saw you with yesterday?” He hummed thoughtfully. “I think you left it on the shelf by the nest. Uh… third from the mirror, right side.”

“Thanks,” Aster muttered, sounding disgruntled. “Why would I leave it _there_?”

Jack ignored that question, since it obviously hadn’t been meant for him. It was his job to get the packs... well, packed. Aster’d dumped a bunch of things on the couch and told Jack to fill the two ‘swags’ and then set about rummaging for odds and ends that weren’t in the pile.

He’d already packed food - which Cottontail had forgotten, of course - and stuff to drink - because who knew if that fountain was safe - and notebooks, because Aster would drive him crazy if he didn’t have _something_ to sketch in. Jack meandered over to the shelf where he knew Aster usually kept his quality colored pencils, but was interrupted by another shout from the back of the burrow.

“Jack?” Aster sounded annoyed. “Where’d I put my notebooks?”

“I’ve got them out here!” Jack called, grinning. Way too excited, was that rabbit. Maybe he’d have to hit him with another happy snowball. Probably would end in another display of sex-god-ness. Would also probably take the edge off.

Probably. Jack grinned to himself. Worth a shot.

Jack set about collecting the Pooka’s favorite pencils, snagged some of the charcoal ones in case he was ‘in the mood’, and then carefully packed them into a side pouch on one of the ‘swags’ - honestly, Aussie slang was so amusing sometimes, and Aster was nothing if not dated in his use, according to some other Australian spirits Jack had spoken with back at the Fortress - when Aster called again.

“Jack? Where’s my swags? I could have sworn I left them in the closet?”

“I’ve got them, oh scatterbrained love of my life!”

“When’d they get out there?” Aster grunted loudly. “I swear, if my head wasn’t attached somedays…” A pregnant pause. “Where’s the tucker-bag?”

“The what now?” Jack looked around. “Are you making up words now?”

Aster poked his head out of the hallway. “No, you galah. Tucker-bag. Tucker. _Food_. Bag for storing food in the bush. It’s got a couple of knives on it?”

“Oh, packed that already. With food in it. All good.”

Aster blinked. “Oh.” His head disappeared, but Jack could still hear him muttering. “How’d I not notice _that_?”

Jack shook his head again. “Don’t forget the tent,” he called. Sure, they’d probably be sleeping in the… place. But why take chances?

“Tent? Didn’t I already put that out there?” Several bangs from the hall closet followed that question.

“No, I don’t see it.”

“Oh. It’s right here. What in the name of El-Ahrairah is it doing _behind the boxes of Sibylline Books_?”

“Well, when’s the last time you used it?” Jack muttered, to himself. He definitely wasn’t grinning. Absolutely wasn’t. “What the heck is a Sibylline book?” he called.

Some grunting and general complaining initially answered him. “Uh. They were purchased by the last King of Rome, Tarquinius Superbus, from an oracle and used throughout the Roman Republic and Empire in times of crisis for divination. I have the whole set.”

“Superbus,” Jack repeated, and snickered. “That doesn’t mean what it used to mean. Okay, you’ve got books of prophecy in your closet. Good to know.”

More grunts. “Got lots of stuff in here.” Another long grunt. “Aha, got the tent. Oh!” A ball of string rolled out of the hallway. “Jack, could you grab that? The Clue of Ariadne needs to be put back on the top shelf.”

Jack sighed. “One day, Cottontail, you’ll give me a tour of all the neat stuff you’ve got hidden away down here. One day…”

Jack picked up the ball of string and eyed it. ‘Clue of Ariadne’? Strange. He walked over and trade it to Aster for the tent. He watched the Pooka place it back on a high shelf in the closet, and-

“Wait. Are those books made of _jade_?”

“Uh, yeah? Jade Books of Heaven. I’m… storing them for a friend. In China.” Aster shrugged. “They’re important in some way or another; I never bothered to check.”

“Right,” Jack said, and patted his shoulder. “Make a note. Tour of the cool stuff here.”

Aster nodded absently as he shifted some of the closet’s contents around. A sword poked out. Yeah, not asking about that now. Aster tried to close the door, but the sword got in the way.

“Why’s the bugger not closing?” Aster said, grunting.

“Sword.”

“Huh?” Aster glanced down. “Oh. Huh. What’s _Galatine_ doing in here?” He pulled the sword out. “It belongs in the Armory.”

Jack sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is one of your names _Hades_ , Cottontail? I thought he was the obsessive collector. C’mon, let’s put the sword away…”

Aster snickered. “Nah mate, Hades and I go way back. He’s passed me several interesting things, and I, him.”

Jack just shook his head in exasperation and followed. “That reality show would weep if they could come here,” he said. “You’re the king of all hoarders, rabbit-foot.”

“Oi!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "It seems I have been overdoing my evil laughs and cackling lately, so we'll skip that. As it happens, I agree with Jack. There is nothing so attractive as an emotionally mature man doing parental things with small children. Forget lifting a car over his head or defeating evil in a single bound, give me a guy who likes cootchie-cooing at infants and knows how to safely clip a toddler's nails!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Sometimes, I feel like my life is as cluttered as Bunny's closet. Only, without the rare, magical, and mythological artefacts."


	36. Chapter 36

**Sunday, 1 September 2013 -- Warren, 12:11 pm local time**

The techno-babble had been flying thick and fast, what with Aster trying to teach Weyland the basics of Pooka technology. It hadn’t been going well. Poor Weyland; the idea that the most advanced of human and WINTER technology was stone-age next to some of the easier-to-understand Pooka tech, well…

His own fault, in Jack’s opinion. If Weyland hadn’t invited himself over, everything would’ve been just fine. Idiot.

“... and this-” Musical word. “-does-” More musical words. “-and then, if you-”

Jack suppressed a giggle. He was positive Aster was dropping into Pookan on purpose. Passive-aggressive much?

“Hey, hubby,” he called, sticking his head into the workroom. Aster and Weyland both looked up. “I’m ducking top-side, want me to pick anything up?”

Weyland’s eyes about bugged out of his head.

Aster smiled beatifically. “There’s some seeds I was meaning to grab from one of the dryads in India. Mind?”

“Sure. Write it down for me?” Jack grinned at Weyland. “Hey, Cottontail’s expanding your universe, huh?”

Weyland opened and closed his mouth several times, before settling on nodding rigidly. Jack suppressed another giggle.

“Here ya go Jackie.” Aster passed him a slip of parchment. Or was it vellum? Probably parchment; Aster saved the vellum for special occasions. “She lives about a league or two from Tooth’s, west of the Palace.”

Jack checked the parchment, and nodded. Name, direction, and a neat little sketch of where the dryad lived. “No problem, hon. I’ll swing by Tooth’s, too, see how she’s doing.” He bounced up on his toes, and pressed a quick kiss to Aster’s mouth. “Love you!”

Bunny smiled and nodded. He ruffled Jack’s hair, and then returned to his explanation.

Jack snickered, and headed out at a fast clip. Still, he heard Weyland’s half-strangled question, “You _tamed_ him?” and about broke a rib stifling laughter.

He missed Bunny’s reply, but he could make out the dryly amused tone. Yup, Aster knew what he’d been doing, and played right along. He sighed happily.

Now. Jack rubbed his hands together, grinning evilly. Time to take a look-see at how things were going over at Chez Tooth Palace.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Sunday, 1 September 2013 -- Tooth Palace, India, 9:24 am local time**

Jack double-checked that the small pouch of seeds was still firmly attached to his belt and then crept forward to the corner of the tower, peeking around it.

_Jackpot._

Tooth and Quetza were having tea on the veranda.

Quetza was in his humanoid form and everything, tail curled around the table in such a way that he could ‘sit’ on the chair across from Tooth. They were both smiling, and the eye contact was threatening to set the tablecloth on fire.

“I’ve always admired your Palace, my lady,” Quetza commented offhandedly, eying Tooth over the rim of his cup.

“Oh, it took forever to get set up. And that temple that used to be yours, that was quite interesting.” Tooth actually did that fingertips-on-the-base-of-the-neck thing, and leaned forward. “And so was the calendar,” she said, and winked. _Winked!_

Jack grinned, which was, in retrospect, a mistake. A fairy saw it. And his teeth. And him. Essentially in that order.

He was promptly swarmed with delighted fairies squeaking at him. So much so he missed whatever Quetza said next.

Baby Tooth flit over a moment later. She glanced from Jack, to the corner of the tower, and back.

And frowned severely, crossing her little arms over her chest. She couldn’t have looked more disapproving if she’d tried.

“What?” he hissed, or tried to. Baby Tooth had to help him fish the overenthusiastic fairy out of his mouth. From the sounds of things, though she looked dazed, she was telling her sisters that it’d been ‘worth it.’

Baby Tooth shooed the others away, and then returned to demonstrating her disapproval. She alit on his shoulder and flicked his ear. And then chastised him verbally for spying.

“Aw, come on,” Jack said, louder than he’d meant.

Tooth made a startled sound. He could hear the whisper of Quetza’s scales shifting against themselves. And approaching.

_Shit._

Jack glared at Baby Tooth - who wore a self-satisfied smirk - and then stepped out into view. “Hey guys,” he said, with less enthusiasm than the situation deserved. “Sorry for interrupting. Was in the area,” he continued, patting the pouch at his hip. “Thought I’d say ‘hi’.”

Quetza gave him the stink eye, and slithered over to clap him on one shoulder. And almost sent him falling off the side of the tower, but details. “Good to see you, Jack,” he said.

If that had been dripping with any more sarcasm, Jack’d have sworn there was _actual_ venom on his fangs.

He swallowed. “Yeah. Hey Quetza. I, ah, can see you two are busy though, so I’ll just take my leave.”

Quetza’s eyes said ‘sooner the better’, but Tooth’s mouth said, “No, why don’t you stay for tea? It’ll be nice to catch up with you.”

The god’s grip on Jack’s shoulder went from firm to near-painful for one breathtaking moment, before relaxing in resignation. “As you wish, my lady.”

Quetza backed away from Jack and bowed his head slightly towards her.

“Oh, um, no,” Jack said, and did his best to look innocent. As compared to, say, intimidated. Not that he was, or anything, he could totally paste just about any and every member of WINTER in a fight, and that included Quetza, even when he was ticked off like this. But _still_. Ticked off Quetza. “I’d actually better rescue Weyland by now. He asked Bunny for lessons in Pooka tech. Well. I say _asked_ , but it was more like he was just… _there…_ when we got up for brekkie. _Breakfast_. What happened to my slang?”

Quetza snickered at Jack, obviously despite himself. “You’re spending too much time with the rabbit, I see. Whipped, are you?” He smirked and took a sip of tea.

“He’s assembling a genome comparison thingy so we’ll see if kids are a possibility in our future,” Jack retorted. “I suggested it.”

Quetza coughed around his tea. Apparently he’d swallowed wrong. Jack smirked back.

“You are?” Tooth asked, wings fluttering. She did a little twirl in the air. “That’s delightful! Bunny would be the mother, of course, but… _oh_ , I hope you can, you’d have such delightful children! And they’d have the best teeth!”

Quetza was looking back and forth between them, dumbfounded. “Bunnymund… _mother_ …? Huh?”

“Bunny can change gender at will,” Tooth explained, waving off Quetza’s confusion with a careless gesture. “Which means if Pooka and humans can interbreed, he’ll have to be the one to carry the babies. Despite any number of fertility gods and sex spirits running around, I don’t think Jack can create a womb inside himself.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Pooka tech is pretty awesome,” Jack said. “Maybe an outside womb, but that’d be tricky and kind of weird.”

Tooth nodded politely. “True, but I don’t think he’s got the parts for that, last we spoke. As I understand it, he used them all for the cryochamber he made for you.”

“Ooh, you didn’t hear,” Jack said, and then caught sight of Quetza’s face. He coughed. “Right, I’ll stop by in a day or two for a proper sit-rep, okay? Weyland now, Bunny’s enthusiasm for technology next - that guy won’t eat without reminders - and then I’ll be by to tell you all the news. It’s pretty awesome.”

Tooth smiled and flit over to hug him warmly. Jack barely avoiding cringing as Quetza glared daggers at him.

“I’ll look forward to your visit, Jack.” Tooth said as she pulled back. “Don’t forget to floss!”

“I’ll remember, and I’ll remind Bunny too,” he promised. “Later, ‘gator,” he called to Quetza.

Quetza’s glare intensified, if that were possible. “Good _bye_ , Regent.”

Jack grinned cheekily and waved as he flew off.

Well. Not much gossip on their relationship status, but _oh_ would Kern love the story of Quetzalcoatl’s reaction!

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Wednesday, 4 September 2013 -- Tooth Palace, India, 11:59 am local time**

Jack waved the Wind off around to the side, and flew down towards the Tooth Palace on his own. The Wind would distract anyone watching the sky - the Wind would distract anyone, period - and then maybe he could get another peek or two at the Quetza-and-Tooth situation. Make a few changes to his bets, maybe, depending on what he learned.

Kern spied all the time for that very reason. Why should Jack be any different?

Well, okay, Kern also spied to get fodder for his fanfic. Jack would not have similar motivation.

He landed silently on the roof of the tower that the pair were luncheoning in, and carefully padded to the edge. Adjusting his grip, he hung his head over the side and peeked in through a window.

Tooth was sporting some sparkles at the wrists. Malachite, if he was any judge. The expensive kind. He squinted. Gold mounting. Intricately carved.

Yep. Expensive.

Quetza looked besotted, and pushed a small box across the table. “This should go well with the bracelets,” he said.

“This is too much,” Tooth said, but she took the box anyways. “I still can’t believe that you made these bracelets yourself.”

“Something to do of an evening,” Quetza said. “Please. They are meant to be worn, and I don’t think they would suit anyone in WINTER.”

Tooth blushed faintly and nodded. Resettling herself in her seat, she settled the box on one knee and carefully opened it. And gasped.

“Quetza! Did you make this too?” She lifted out a necklace, silver and - Jack squinted, able to make out flashes of what looked like liquid fire - and started breathing just a little deeper. “It’s beautiful!”

Jack did _not_ miss the look Quetza shot the swelling breasts. He snickered faintly.

He also didn’t miss the way Quetza stiffened, and began looking around. Wha - no! That snake better not have heard him…

“Oh, ah, I was the one to do the metalwork, but I had one of the baby agents polish the opals,” he said. “Something for him to do.”

Jack carefully shifted so that less of his head was visible, hiding behind a partially beaded curtain fringe. Quetza glanced up at the movement and frowned.

Right. Rookie mistake. Movement drew attention, do not do it.

Jack sighed, thankfully inward-only, so no noise, and held very, very still.

Quetza glared at the spot where Jack’s head had been a moment ago, and then shook his head lightly, as if chastising himself for being jumpy.

Tooth was speaking. “I must say, the craftsmanship is exquisite! You must send my regards to the agent for the gem cutting, it catches the light wonderfully!”

“Ah, that was me,” Quetza admitted. “Flint knapping can be adapted, it seems.”

Jack couldn’t help the next snicker either. Damn it.

Quetza stiffened again. “Pardon me, my lady. There seems to be a … vermin problem. If you’ll excuse me a moment?”

“What? Oh. Alright,” Tooth said, and arched her eyebrows. “Don’t take too long, your food will get cold.” The look she sent him, though, was no doubt meant to keep him very warm.

Shit. Shit shit shit. Damn it, Jack!

He knew it was just his excitement at the whole situation. Spying wasn’t something he got up to much these days, and hadn’t since Aster had accepted him as a friend. And more. Still, that was no excuse to get sloppy.

As soon as Quetza’s back was turned, Jack hefted himself up and stepped back from the edge.

And right into Quetza’s very muscular, very hard chest. Two large hands clamped down on his arms. Uh oh.

“Uh… hi.”

“Hello, Regent,” Quetza said, voice dipping down and adding the odd sibilant. “Ssso good of you to drop by.”

Crap. Quetza only hissed these days when he was super-pissed. “I, ah, was just checking to make sure I wouldn’t interrupt anything before dropping in.”

“How thoughtful.” Jack felt a forked tongue flick against the rim of one ear. “Perhapsss you ssshould have watched from further away, hm? Or, even, not at all.”

“Eh heh. That’s not a bad idea. Being further away that is.” Jack shifted, and tried to turn around, but Quetza’s grip held firm. “If you’d, ah, release me, I’ll do just that.”

The serpentine god laughed, darkly enough even Pitch Black would’ve gotten chills. “Oh no,” he said, the hissing no longer in evidence. “You promised my lady and charge to share tales. It would be rude to duck out now.”

Quetza released one of Jack’s arms and none-to-gently spun him around. “But that is _all_ you will do. For… let’s say, at most, an hour? Because I’m feeling _generous_. And then you will _go_.”

That glare could melt stone.

“You bet,” Jack said, and held up his hands. “Sure thing. And not come back.”

Quetzalcoatl nodded sharply, once. “Glad we have an understanding.”

Oh. His eye was twitching. Yeah, dangerous waters Jack. Tread carefully.

“So, um, shall we go?” he gestured towards the roof. “Sooner I say hi, sooner I say bye?”

Quetza gestured for him to go first.

Right. So he could watch Jack’s every move. Jack heaved a sigh and dropped down.

“Jack!” Tooth exclaimed as he entered. “So good of you to drop by!”

“Said I would, didn’t I?” he asked, moving over to a nearby couch - as compared to sitting at the table, which would probably have ended with Quetza demonstrating ‘defenestration’ for all the nice fairies - and sprawled out. “You’ll be the first person to hear the news.”

Tooth rearranged herself to sit more attentively. “News? There’s news?”

He glanced over at Quetza, and mentally shrugged. “Found a Pooka temple over in the Congo.”

She gasped delightedly. Quetza just looked confused. Figures he hadn’t read Bunny’s file.

“Bunny’s an alien,” he told Quetza. “From _outer space._ Read the file if you want all the nitty-gritty details, but basically he figured he was the last. Then I brought back some rocks with Pooka carvings on them from that mission with the idiots, remember? Then Bunny demanded I take him to the temple, and let’s just say the vanishing walls confirmed his suspicion. Pooka temple.”

Quetza blinked at him slowly, in the manner of serpents.

Tooth squealed. “Did you find anyone? Or…” She sobered. “Bodies?”

“Looks like they cleared out willingly and in good order,” Jack assured her. “Repairs to the computers or what-have-you will take a while, so we don’t know where they went.” He contemplated the ceiling. “Probably Mars. That’s where all aliens are supposed to be, isn’t it? Or,” he grinned, “Uranus.”

Tooth giggled. Quetza glared at Jack for the joke. Jack stuck his tongue out in response; the god couldn’t do nearly as much with Tooth as witness. Jack was totally not going to take advantage of that.

_Well, maybe a little… I’m going to have to explain these bruises on my arms to an overprotective rabbit, after all…_

“So, yeah,” Jack said, and waved one hand in dismissal. “Also, I found out Bunny was once worshiped as a sex god, but he won’t tell me where. It’s very not nice of him.”

Tooth leaned conspiratorially forward. “From what I hear, it was somewhere in Central Asia.”

“Ooh, someplace to look, then,” Jack said, and grinned. “Thanks, Tooth.”

She smiled at him fondly, patting his hand. Quetza’s glare couldn’t quite of bored a hole through his skull, but it was close.

“Anyways, other than that it’s been pretty tame. Bunny’s making a machine to see if we can have babies, Pooka temple in the Congo, and you have sparklies. They look very nice, Tooth.”

Tooth demured, and showed off the jewelry, nattering on for several long minutes about the craftsmanship, the materials, and what-not. Jack nodded along as appropriate. Quetza eyed him oddly the entire time, as if he expected Jack to say something disparaging.

“The bracelets look Indian,” he said. “But what do I know. But the necklace…” He shot a look at Quetza. “Aztec or Mayan?”

Quetzalcoatl drew himself up. “Aztec, of course. I take pride in my work.”

“Easy, big guy,” Jack said, and patted the air. “I just can’t remember if the Mayans worshipped you too or not.”

Quetza shrugged, and shook his head. “Not really. They had other gods. I didn’t much like them, but it matters not. I’m still here.”

_And they’re not_ was the silent implication. Jack wasn’t sure he _liked_ that implication, not coupled with the look Quetza favored him with, which indicated _he’d_ had something to do with that.

On the other hand… well, he could also understand said implication. Perhaps it was time to make himself scarce.

You know. So as to check up on _his_ old god Aster, make sure the rabbit wasn’t going senile in Jack’s absence.

“No offense, Tooth,” he said, and sat up straight. “Mind if I head out early? Bunny was talking about stuff that go boom, and I want to be there for the show.” Jack grinned. “And make sure he doesn’t blow his crazy Aussie head off or something.”

Tooth giggled and nodded. “Sure, Jack. Just don’t forget to drop by now and again. I like your visits.”

Quetza glared at Jack again as he hugged her. Yeah, Jack knew one person present who didn’t like that open-ended invitation.

“Thanks, Tooth. I’ll do that.” When Quetza settled down. So, never. “And don’t be a stranger in the Warren, either.”

Oh, if Quetza’s glare could have gotten any worse…

“Sure, Jack. We can drop by sometime, I’m sure. Isn’t that right, Quetza?” she affirmed, glancing over her shoulder to smile at the serpent god.

Whose expression immediately went from glaring to besotted. “Of course, my lady.”

Jack shook his head, and headed for the window. “Talk to you guys later. Gonna go home, make popcorn, distract Bunny at an important moment…”

Tooth laughed as he flew at the window. At least someone here appreciated his jokes.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Jack made a nuisance of himself for a few more weeks, dropping in randomly, usually around lunchtime, and mostly just to annoy Quetzalcoatl. It was fun, though he stopped spying after the third visit, given that he was _really_ not looking forward to a repeat of the death glare and the not-quite-friendly-at-all-serpent-tail-hug.

Quetza was a venomous constrictor. Kind of easy to forget that… up until the ribs got bruised, that was.

Still, it was fun annoying him. And Tooth was always ever-so-pleased to have him visit. Honestly, the jealousy rolling off Quetza could have drowned a lesser man than Jack.

He sure hoped Tooth knew what she was getting into.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Next chapter, Quetza gets his revenge. And Australia tries to kill them both. Such is life."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Chapter's a little short, but next chapter makes up for it. Promise. Well, if Australia doesn't kill them first."


	37. Chapter 37

**Monday, 14 October 2013 -- Dove Lake, Cradle Mountain-Lake St Clair National Park, Tasmania, Australia, 12:52 pm local time**

“- and then the idiot went and told Weyland he was ‘out of touch with modern viewpoints’ and the proverbial shit hit the very real fan… Huh.” Jack stopped with his vaguely interesting story about ‘baby agents honking off old gods’ and took a good look around. Aster smiled, very faintly, and waited for the inevitable reaction.

“Wow,” Jack breathed, eyes going wide. “This is actually pretty neat. You know,” he added, slanting a look in Aster’s direction. “For a dinky little watering hole.”

“Dinky little watering hole my foot,” Aster said, looking out over the lake with no small amount of pride. “Had a hand in setting the place up, so _really_ , my foot.”

Jack eyed him sidelong. “Really? Wait, of course ‘really’, this is Australia we’re talking about. You had a hand in everything!”

“Well, not everything.” He winked. “Didn’t do anything about the platypus, after all.”

Jack considered him for a long moment. “That was a gift from Mother Nature, wasn’t it?”

“Echidna, then. Not a gift, and I didn’t meddle, either.”

“Uh huh. You’ve told me a little about your homeworld, and that sounds like it’d fit _right_ in.” Jack grinned playfully.

“Anything not made out of the vegetation tended to be a monotreme or marsupial, at least by your human terms,” Aster said easily. “Higher survival rate of the kits.”

“Wait. Wait wait wait.” Jack waved his hands about in a vaguely silencing gesture. “You’re not a marsupial, so does that mean… Aster, love of my life, do Pooka _lay eggs?_ ”

He ignored Jack for a long minute or two, scouting out the perfect place to put down the tucker-bag and ground cloth. Only when the cloth had been set out to his satisfaction, and the tucker-bag laid out just so, did he pay attention to his frosty mate once more. “How do you know I’m not a marsupial? Shapeshifter, remember?”

“No one would deny being a kangaroo so vehemently if they were a marsupial. And you claim ‘bunny’ quite often,” Jack stated, matter-of-factly. “So no, not marsupial.”

He hummed along to a song he’d half-heard on one radio. Two or three decades back. “Well. Might be Pooka had monotreme attributes, yes.”

“Bunny?”

“Yes Jack?”

“Do you want to make alien baby eggs with me?” Jack grinned brightly.

Aster didn’t know if he was supposed to laugh or not, but he did anyways. “Thought we covered that already,” he said, once he’d caught his breath. “Not sure I’m ready to be a mum yet.”

“But you didn’t tell me they’d be _eggs_ ,” Jack pointed out, shaking a finger at him. “Which, for the record, since I see how you’re looking at me, is weird. But cool.”

“What’s the difference between eggs and live births?” he asked. Really, he didn’t know the answer. Sometimes a Pooka’s eggs had hatched months after being laid, and sometimes it’d been a matter of minutes. Depended on if the baby was a ‘premie’ or ‘overdue’, though technically the only kit born overdue was one that’d hatched in the womb. Tended to be a bit lethal, that. Egg shell bits were sharp.

Jack paused, finger in the air and mouth agape. “I… well, okay, I _know_ there’s differences. Important ones. Buuut… I’m not a biologist.” He shrugged. “Ask Mother Nature.”

“I did. She decided to create monotremes to try and figure out the answer.”

Jack blinked. “I guess I’d better go dig up a biology textbook then. I wonder if Jamie’s old enough for that yet…”

Jack trailed off, eying the lake thoughtfully.

“Don’t involve the kid, he already knows too much about my biology as is.”

Jack snickered. “He’s curious about the ‘gender thing.’ Pesters me about it occasionally, ever since Sophie’s party.”

“No.” Aster opened the tucker-bag. He pulled out the first thing to come to hand, barely glanced at it, and handed it over. “Eat your… bottle of water.”

Jack gnawed on the bottle playfully for a few moments before uncapping it and taking a long swig. Aster totally didn’t stare at his throat.

Totally.

Not even when a few drops escaped the corner of Jack’s mouth, trailing down his cheek to run along his jaw and from there down the side of his neck…

Jack squawked when Aster ducked forward and licked a long stripe up his neck, catching those wayward drops.

They tasted good.

“You dribbled,” he said by way of excuse, rolling his shoulders easily in an attempt to hide his embarrassment at his lack of self-control.

“Gwah?” Jack shook his head, and capped the water. He gave the bottle a thoughtful look. “Obviously I should dribble more often,” he muttered. Aster heard him clearly, and grinned sheepishly.

He passed out the first couple sandwiches and settled back on his haunches, nibbling away at the egg-salad-turned-sandwich-mix, with a side of lettuce and avocado.

Jack, being Jack, had to take his sandwich apart and eat each bit individually. With a lot of licking his fingers and lips.

And shooting none-too-subtle looks at Aster while he did so.

Aster caught him in one of those looks, and went with a wide eyed, pseudo-shocked expression. “Why, Mister Frost,” he said, pitching his voice two painful octaves higher. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Jack fluttered - _fluttered_ \- his eyelashes at him and held one hand loosely at the base of his throat, fingers lightly touching his clavicle. “Why, Mister Bunny, what would you say if I said ‘yes’?”

“I am seduce,” Aster replied easily. “As you might say, Mister Pop Culture.”

Jack laughed and leaned over for a kiss.

Aster hummed in appreciation, leaning into the contact, one hand cupping Jack’s cheek and the other supporting his weight. He forgot the food. He forgot the view. He forgot everything but the feeling of Jack’s lips and tongue sliding against his own, of how good the scant contact between their two bodies felt, of -

“This looks interesting,” he heard, and then he forgot everything except the feeling of Jack’s teeth sunk deep into his tongue, drawing blood and a muffled scream.

“What the hell?” Jack screamed, and froze the blanket.

Aster stuck his tongue out to view the damage, whimpering all the while. Crikey but that _hurt_.

He looked up from examining his tongue to find Jack a couple feet away, standing, in all his short, slim glory, before the giant of a man that Quetzalcoatl made himself out to be, risen up on his tail as he was. The glare was almost adorable, if not for the pain in Aster’s tongue.

“What’re you doing here?” Jack snapped. He snatched up his staff, with his foot, and somehow got it flipped around and in his hand without the use of fingers. He pointed said staff at Quetza. “Seriously, what the hell?”

Quetza smirked at Jack faintly and held out a small package. “I was asked to give you this. My lady requested that it be delivered to you directly. And forthwith.”

“In other words, when you saw me next,” Jack muttered. He took the box. “You’re a dead man, Quetza.”

Quetza glanced innocently between Jack and Aster. “Why, did I _interrupt_ something?”

“A kiss,” Aster muttered, and was ignored. Ow, his tongue was _bleeding_. He’d have to pop back into the Warren for a salve once they got rid of the snake-in-the-grass god.

“Yes, Quetza, you did. Me and my _boyfriend_ were having a nice afternoon together. Alone.” Jack paused, and added, “Without you.”

Quetza shot Jack a triumphant smirk. “Ah. Right. ‘Alone’. Such a nice word. Something I’ve _not had the pleasure of with the Lady Toothiana for over a month now_. I wonder why that is.” The glare he shot Jack could have melted stone, it was so heated.

“Well, you’re not her boyfriend,” Jack pointed out. “I’d get on that if I were you. She’s a classy lady. And you’re kind of a bum.”

“Why I oughta-”

Aster stepped between them, swallowed carefully - blegh, blood - and said, “I think you made your point. Hand me the package and _go_.”

“Uh,” Jack said, and looked down at the box in his hand. “Here? It might explode?”

Aster waved Jack off. “Nevermind then. Just _go._ ”

“I don’t have to listen to you,” Quetza pointed out.

“True. But what if I told Toothiana that you were making trouble with Jack and I?”

It wasn’t possible for Quetza to go pale - scales, like fur, made that rather difficult to see - but he swayed back and forth on his tail like he’d been clouted in the head with a two-by-four. “Oh. I see. I, ah, I’ll be going then.”

“You do that. And next time?” Quetza paused in his retreat, wary. “Call first. I know you have those silly little _primitive_ earbud communicators. _Use them_.”

Aster did not pull a boomerang free just so he could tap it against his thigh meaningfully, while glaring at the snake, oh no. The boomerang just needed a little air, that was all. Clearly that was all it was.

And if Quetza disappeared into the wind that much quicker, well. It was all for the better. He turned to Jack to see him eyeing him oddly. Or, not so oddly, if Jack’s flush was anything to go by.

“Yes- ow.” Yeah, okay. Tongue starting to throb. He put the ‘rang away and stuck out his tongue to examine it again. “Ow.”

“That doesn’t look good,” Jack said, and his flush turned into a blush. The way he ducked his head made it rather obvious. “So, uh…?”

“Wa’en. Med’sin.” Yeah, easier to talk this way without pain, but his words were shit.

“... Y’know what, even if you didn’t say Warren, it’s where we’re going. C’mon, Cottontail, I’ll pack up.”

“‘uv oo.” Damn it, he sounded like a yearling kit.

“Love you too, Kangaroo.”

Aster flipped him off. “Oi! OW!”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Monday, 14 October 2013 -- Currawinya National Park, South West Queensland, Australia, 2:49 pm local time**

“Hey, ‘Roo! There’s a bunch of bilbies over here! C’mon over and see!”

“Uh, what?” Shit. He’d forgotten the humans had installed that in… oh, what, twelve years back?

“They’re so cute,” Jack cooed, and leaned over the fence. “I want one!”

“No.” Aster stood off to the side and glared at the … _things_ in the enclosure.

Jack turned and looked at him. “Oh wait. I already have one. Large and grumpy too.”

“I am _not_ a bilby!” Aster gestured between himself and the… the _things_. “I don’t have a tail!”

Jack reached casually behind him and tweaked his tail. “Well. Not much of one.”

The sprite’s grin couldn’t get any cheekier. Aster’s eye twitched.

“C’mon, let’s go set up camp,” he growled and stomped off, pointedly ignoring Jack’s snickering.

“Camp? I thought this was a picnic.”

“Whatever. Just _come_.”

“So demanding,” Jack commented airly, floating alongside him and carrying the basket on the end of his staff. “As if I would just come on command. That takes work you know!”

Aster whirled on him. “Either come with me or rack off!”

Jack blinked. “Aster?”

He shook his head, and looked away. Guilt, just a little bit of it, lodged against his still-sore tongue. “I don’t… bilbies annoy me, mate, and my tongue still hurts.”

Jack floated forward and pecked him on the nose. It twitched reflexively. Bastard.

“Sorry. For the bilbies, and the tongue.” Jack glanced behind him. “Oh! Someone left a picnic table out here. Wanna set up there?”

“At a _table_?” Aster immediately glanced down at his own legs. Then he caught Jack with one arm about the waist. “Ah, sorry for snapping. I just… really don’t like bilbies too much, after the Easter Bilby thing.”

Jack nodded seriously. “I won’t mention it again.” Aster shot him a doubtful look. “Well, I’ll _try_.”

“That sounds more like it,” he said, and pecked his mate on the nose in retaliation. Jack crinkled his nose cutely. “Now c’mon, there’s a good spot under that tree there.”

“Okay!” Jack flit over and managed to have the blanket pulled out before Aster got there. “You just lay down. I’ll take care of everything this time.”

“I’m not laying down until that cloth’s between me and the ground,” he said, half laughing. “Dirt here’s more like sand and that’s a pain to get out’a my fur, remember?”

Jack grinned and flicked out the blanket in a single, smart snap. “There. Happy?”

“Delighted,” he said, deadpan, and sat down on the blanket. “Alright. I require some tucker, mate, gonna share?”

Jack nodded, still grinning, and pulled out some fruit, tossing an apple at Aster. He caught it deftly and bit in. It was a wonderful combination of tart and sweet. “Oooh. Where’d you find these?”

“America,” Jack said, grinning like the cheeky little shaved monkey he was. “Why?”

He held the apple before him and examined it. “Hmm. Hybrid of some sort. I don’t quite recognize it. Is it new?”

“Dunno, is 1991 new?” Jack teased him. “Showing your age, old man. The gray hair’s getting to your brain.”

Aster grumbled and took another bite instead of answering, chewing slowly so as to enjoy the flavor. Several drops of apple juice fell on the blanket.

“Hey,” Jack asked, and crunched his own apple. “So, you’re older than me, right?”

Aster eyed Jack dubiously, but nodded. “Yeah. What of it?”

“That makes you a cougar!” he chirped, and waved his apple enthusiastically.

“That makes me… a… large cat that ambushes prey?” Aster blinked. “You’re very strange, love.”

Jack snorted, and pointed his apple at him. “No, goofball. A cougar is an older woman into younger men. Granted, you’re a guy, but with the gender shifting you can do, I figure we can be flexible.”

Aster sighed and took another bite in lieu of answering. Jack giggled and followed suit, thankfully quieting down for a few minutes as they ate in companionable silence.

“Ow!” Jack yelped out of the blue, scratching at his ankle.

“Wot’s wrong?” Aster asked, and then felt it. The creepy, unmistakable feeling of something _crawling through his fur_. “Argh!”

He hopped up and started combing through his fur, but not before several painful bites made themselves known. “Damn it! Bull ants! Jack, quick! Freeze us!”

“But - Ow! - you said never to-”

“ _Freeze us!_ ”

Jack hopped on one foot, made a face, and then yanked his trousers down. “Right,” he muttered, and blew on Aster like he was cooling off soup. Aster promptly felt _cold_ , but the bites stopped.

Jack blew on himself, and ended up coated in a couple millimeters worth of ice. Which… was decidedly _less_ than what covered Aster.

Not fair.

“I don’t like ants,” Jack whined, and tried to scratch one calf through the ice. “They bite.”

“Not all of them.” Aster tried to move and the ice cracked - _cracked_. He turned a glare on his mate. “Jack. Overboard, much?”

“You sounded really freaked out.” Still, his mate moved over and immediately started drawing off the ice. “Give me a minute and… let’s go somewhere else.”

“After a pitstop in the Warren for another salve,” Aster grumbled, annoyed at the whole situation.

“After a pitstop in the Warren for another salve,” Jack agreed.

  
  


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**Monday, 14 October 2013 -- Waitomo Caves, North Island, New Zealand, 4:04 pm local time**

“Oh whoa!” Jack exclaimed. “What’re those?”

Aster smiled. “ _Arachnocampa luminosa_. Known as the New Zealand Glowworm, or titiwai in Maori. A species of gnat. Pretty, yeah?”

Jack nodded and grinned, turning towards Aster - and then frowned sharply.

“What? Have I got something on my face?”

“Kern,” Jack growled.

“I’ve got Kern on _my face_?” Aster asked, dumbfounded.

Jack pointed behind him. Oh. Right.

“What the bloody hell is he doing here?” he asked, any and all good feelings for the deer vanishing. Retroactively, if need be. Extending into the future, too. All of it just _gone_ , was the thing.

“ _Kern_ ,” Jack said warningly.

Aster turned around in time to see the cervid with his hands up defensively in the air. “I, ah, was just coming to check on you boss. You, ah, said you’d only be a couple hours, and-”

“We have _earbuds_ ,” Jack pointed out, sounding not-quite-sane. And maybe a lot angry.

“Ah,” Kern said softly. “Ah, right. Right. Quetza said you’d mentioned something about those recently. I, ah… forgot?”

Jack’s eye twitched, and then he launched himself forward after the idiot deer. Aster leaned back against a cave wall, and watched appreciatively. Jack really did wear some of the tightest leather pants he’d seen yet...

  
  


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**Monday, 14 October 2013 -- Uluru, Northern Territory, Australia, 6:47 pm local time**

“Aster.”

“Yeah mate?”

Jack turned from gazing out over the Outback, a bright grin on his face. “Did you make this place too?”

“Well, maybe a little. Had to shift some dirt around, seemed a good place for it.”

Jack’s grin got brighter, though he didn’t know how, and he said, obviously awed, “It’s beautiful.”

Aster smiled back. “Ah, just wait until sunset, Snowflake. It’s a right beaut out here then.”

“And a desert,” Jack pointed out, eyes glittering. “Gets cold at night. Might want to snuggle up for warmth.”

“Might do, at that,” Aster agreed happily.

“So,” Jack said, and stepped forward. “Maybe we should get on that. I don’t know about you, but I can feel a bit of a chill already.”

Aster’s smiled sharpened into a grin and he quickly settled the blanket up near a rocky outcropping, and plopped down with his back against it comfortably. He gestured for Jack to join him.

“Oh yeah,” Jack purred, pressing up against his side. “Much better now.”

Aster purred in turn; it was always nice when Jack did that. It felt… right. He knew, logically, that Jack wasn’t a Pooka, but… it was a pleasant surprise when Jack managed to mimic the mannerisms correctly.

If he’d mention it, Jack would likely do it more often, but that’d take away the special.

Ah, whatever. He had a willing mate cuddled up to him, why was he thinking about behavioral habits?

“I know very well that you don’t get cold, mate.”

“Aster?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and cuddle.”

He chortled, and rubbed his chin against Jack’s hair. “Shutting up.”

Jack hummed happily and settled, his head on Aster’s chest, and they half-watched the sun set.

Half, because only a few minutes later, Aster found himself attached at the lips to the sneaky little sprite he called a mate. He wasn’t entirely sure how it’d happened, but he wasn’t complaining.

Rocks crunched underfoot, and Aster caught the sound first. He stiffened, and pulled away from the kiss. “Kern,” he grumbled. Quetza didn’t have feet.

Jack hissed and looked around the side of the rock. “Ker- uh, not-Kern. Hi?”

A strange, fluted growl answered him. Aster was instantly alert.

The beast stalked forward, one half of its skull rippling in a way similar to Aster’s shapeshifting, but much more nausea inducing. It was long, eleven feet at a minimum, and broad. It stood nearly as tall as Jack, while on all fours. Vaguely feline, but currently sporting a more dog-like face, with long fangs and two pronounced horns that swept back behind it’s tufted ears.

“What’s a Bunyip like you doing so far from water?” he asked, seemingly nonchalant, as he carefully edged backwards from the rock, motioning for Jack to copy him. He pulled out his boomerangs. “Jack, be careful. These things can shift, like me, but unpredictably.”

“Shift into what?” Jack asked, as the bunyip gained a duck-bill. “A goose?”

The Bunyip sniffed at them with it’s strange nose, which morphed again even as they watched into something vaguely reptilian.

“It’s random, Jackie.” Aster shifted his stance. “But they’re only supposed to live near water.”

“Ah.” Jack leaned against his staff, and stared at the Bunyip. “Y’know something, Bunny?”

Aster didn’t take his eyes off the beast. “Wot, love?”

“I am getting really, really tired of interruptions.” Jack stopped leaning on his staff, and twirled it in a quick circle. “How about you?”

The Bunyip chose that moment to leap, it’s back legs having morphed into something akin to a frog. Just _great_.

Aster dodged to the side, yelping, “Me too!”

“Hah! Batter up!” Jack swung his staff at the Bunyip’s rear legs. He hit one. Suddenly, the Bunyip had another knee, but this one was bending the wrong way. Looked painful.

The beast yelped in pain, and much to Jack’s surprise, he was abruptly grabbed about the waist by a _tentacle_ , and flung several feet away, slamming into a rocky outcropping.

Aster winced when Jack impacted. That was going to leave a mark. He threw his ‘rangs at the monster. It dodged, of course, though not on the return flight. One of the boomerangs clipped it’s head, slicing open an ear. Aster flicked ichor off the ‘rang when he caught it. It sizzled on the ground.

He sighed. Of course. At least it hadn’t turned acidic until after it had been removed from the weapon.

Jack shoved away from the rock, and leapt into the air. “Oh, that does it. Wind!”

He hovered, waiting. And then started tapping the butt of his staff against one calf. “Wind! Hurry up already!”

Nothing. “Stop waiting and start fighting!”

“That damn bird is so grounded,” Jack yelled back, and then divebombed the Bunyip.

Who suddenly had a heavy, dinosaur-esque tail. Jack had long enough to gasp in surprise before he was tail-slapped right back the way he’d come.

And right back into the rock. Aster winced again. He hoped that cracking sound wasn’t what he thought it was.

“How do you kill this thing!” Jack called over, gasping a bit as he breathed in.

“You don’t!” Aster exclaimed, dodging the swipe of a paw. “You irritate it enough to make it leave!”

“Well, take cover. I’ll irritate it. I’ll irritate it into _hypothermia_!” Jack flew up into the air again, and raised his staff. The wind started blowing, and low clouds actually started to form.

Aster dodged several more attacks, then jumped in close to hit the Bunyip right between the eyes, hard, with the back of a boomerang. It staggered, stunned. Good. Aster flipped out of the way, not a moment too soon.

“Now freeze!” Jack swung his staff, and a blast of cold wind better suited to _Antarctica_ hit the monster like a battering ram. Ice began to coat the ground - actual ice, getting thicker as Aster watched - and clogged the Bunyip’s nostrils. Aster sought cover behind the rock they’d been leaning up against.

“Freeze, freeze, _freeze_!” With each word, Jack threw a ball of ice, like his joy-inducing snowballs but much less… friendly. They shattered on the monster’s sides and shoulders, and made painful thudding sounds on contact.

The Bunyip roared again, the same strange fluted sound as the growl, only two octaves higher now, and flailed about, trying to throw off the ice and cold, but to no avail. After almost a full minute of Jack pelting it, the beast roared again and half-limped away from the sprite. Limping turned to slithering as it’s lower half morphed again, this time into a snake body, and it disappeared over the edge of the cliffside.

“And stay away!” Jack dropped down, and waved one hand at the clouds. They vanished as quickly as they’d arrived; probably fog, now that Aster had a moment to think about it. Not even Seraphina could make the weather change that quickly, but making fog was just a question of condensation.

Jack turned around to look at Aster. And yelped, one hand flying to cup the ribs on his right side.

“Again?” Aster asked, and sighed. “What is it with you and breaking your ribs, shorty?”

“Hey! I’m not short, I’m fun sized!” Jack rejoined, gasping slightly. “And no, not broken, I don’t think. Bruised. Stressed, maybe hairline fractures. Nothing major.”

Nothing major? Aster sighed. “That’s it. I’m taking you home and wrapping you in bandages until you can’t move.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, and then smirked. “Kinky. I’ll give it a try.”

Aster opened his mouth to reply, but no words came forth. He sighed again and shook his head.

“C’mon, ice block, help me - carefully! - pack up and we can go home.”

His mate sighed, and looked regretfully towards the sunset. The finished sunset. “Yeah. Guess it’s time.”

Aster ruffled his hair when he came within reach. “It’s alright love. We can try again next month, when you’re off duty.”

“America,” Jack muttered. “All the monsters are afraid of me there.”

Aster snickered. “Deal.”

  
  


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**Monday, 14 October 2013 -- Warren, 7:16 pm local time**

Aster quickly got the basket settled on the table, tossed the blanket haphazardly on a chair, and then returned to the front door to guide Jack inside. Apparently, with the adrenaline wearing off, the pain was getting to him. Well, he’d take care of that, right quick.

“Why is it always the ribs?” Jack grumbled. He winced, and sat down where Aster told him to. “Seriously. This is getting ridiculous. Do I need body armor under this sweater? Do I really need to fill out a requisition form for that?”

“Yes.” Aster snickered. “Or you could just, y’know, _stop getting smacked around_. Stay there, I’ll be right back with the medical kit.”

“My job requires me to get smacked around,” Jack muttered. “I don’t want body armor,” he whined. “It’s stiff and itchy and makes me sweat. Me. Sweat. It freezes and it itches.”

Aster padded back into the room and knelt next to the couch. “You’re only supposed to sweat when _I_ make you sweat, Jackie. Here, take this.” He handed Jack three pills and a glass of water.

“Is this going to make me loopy?” Jack eyed the pills suspiciously. “Because loopy would derail my plans for you later tonight.”

“I think I’ve got the mix right for you now, so no.” Aster grinned. “Plans? With those ribs? Well, I’d better see to them then. C’mon, the gauze is in the bedroom, from last time. We can wrap you in there.”

“You just want to get me naked in the nest.”

“And you’re complaining?”

“No. But you could always be more subtle about your sneaky, diabolical plans.”

Aster snickered, but didn’t reply, just pointed where he wanted Jack to sit in the nest. He complied, carefully settling crosslegged. He went to remove the sweater and hissed.

“Oi, stop that, ya drongo. Here, let me remove it. Careful, careful…” Aster gently tugged it over Jack’s upraised arms.

“Cut it and die,” Jack warned him. “Oh, wow, that hurt. And yet,” he added, waggling one hand in the air. “It didn’t. The pills are working.”

Aster ruffled Jack’s hair again. “Told ya I got it right this time. Now, stay still.”

He pulled out the gauze and set it down next to Jack. Then he snagged his scanning device off the shelf and ran it over the faintly bruised area on Jack’s right side. He hummed thoughtfully at the reading.

“Well, should I call you Dr. McCoy now? Wait, no, he was an X-Man.”

Aster ignored the cheek. “Well, you’re not wrong; they aren’t broken, but it was a near thing. Stress fractures. Hairline.” He turned to the med kit and rummaged around, handing Jack a bottle. “Here, take two of these.”

“I already took pills. I don’t want anymore. Do you have a white labcoat hidden away somewhere?”

“Those pills were for pain. These,” he said, gesturing at the bottle Jack held. “Are for healing. Your ribs will be right as rain within twenty-four hours, if you actually listen to your doctor.”

Jack set the bottle aside, and caught him by the bandolier strap. “I’ll eat lots of cheese and drink extra milk, Dr. Sexy. Right now I’d rather you put your healing hands on me.”

“Gauze first.” He picked up the roll and snapped out a strip. “Arms up.”

“Oh, baby,” Jack said, and grinned. His expression got a touch strained when he lifted his hands above waist height, but he got his arms up and held them steady while Aster got to work. “So, Doctor. Will I live?”

Aster tugged sharply on one strip. Jack yelped. “Yeah, I think so. Hold still. Yer squirming is making this harder.”

“Spoilsport.”

He continued wrapping Jack’s torso for a couple minutes, pausing every few times around to make sure it was tight, but not constricting. He pulled back when he’d finished, and stretched out another strip, eyeing Jack thoughtfully.

“That’s an interesting expression,” Jack said, and poked at his ribs. Of course he did. “Nice wrap-job, Hank.”

Aster reached out and gently took one of Jack’s hands, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. “Y’know, Jackie. Ya shouldn’t poke at it. Makes a bloke want to do something so ya don’t hurt yerself none.”

Jack leaned forward, grinning like the little monster he was. “Y’know, Bunny, if you’re trying to sound like a cowboy, you need a more western accent. Lahk this, darlin’,” he said, ending in an exaggerated Texan drawl.

Probably exaggerated.

Aster snorted, and took advantage of Jack’s unbalanced position to quickly knock him back into the pillows and tie his hands down. He sat back on his haunches and grinned. “Now that’s more like it.”

“Wha- hey, wait, you were serious about this?” Jack looked at his bound hands, and hummed. “Okay. Continue. I’ll need a complete physical, Doctor,” he added, leering up at Aster.

“Mmm. Might do. But first…” Aster reached back behind him and popped the bottle cap, extracting two over-large pills. “You’ll be takin’ yer medicine.”

Jack stared at him. And then at the pills. And then back up at him. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Well. It’s either orally, or as a suppository. These’ll work either way.” Aster quirked an eyebrow inquiringly.

Jack sighed, and rolled his eyes. “Do I get a drink of water? Because I never learnt how to dry-swallow pills.”

“It’s a skill,” Aster agreed and produced a glass of water from seemingly thin air. “Now, drink up.”

“This is feeling less sexy and more like Gretchen the Fierce at WINTER HQ. That is not sexy.” Jack glared at him, and opened his mouth.

“Well, if you were a more… _pliable_ … patient,” Aster drawled, carefully tipping the glass. “You’d get to the sexy part sooner.”

Jack swallowed, and gave him a fierce look. “Yeah. Gretchen. This is worrying.”

After Jack dutifully, if mutinously, took the two pills, Aster set the glass aside, and straddled his lap, fingers idly playing with the buckle of Jack’s pants. “So, love. What’s say I take these off, hmm? Get you a little more… _relaxed_ , for being such a good patient.”

“You ruined it with your Gretchen impersonation, you monster you. Untie me.”

Aster lightly ran his paws up Jack’s sides, not quite tickling, but not quite not either. “You sure ‘bout that?” He leaned forward a licked the shell of one ear.

Jack’s breath hitched, and he licked his lips, but nodded. “Yup. Sure. Shoo.”

He shifted so that he could rub one knee against Jack’s groin, and applied light pressure while he continued to feather his fingers up and down Jack’s abdomen. He licked the other ear lightly.

“Mmm? Did you say something Jackie?” he purred.

“A- Are you - ah, you - you… something. Um.” Jack arched up under his hands, and groaned. “Evil monster. That’s it. World domination. Gonna stop you. Save billions.”

Aster grinned and pulled back slightly. “Is. That. So?”

He punctuated each word with a twist to one of Jack’s nipples.

Jack’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his pants were probably quite tight by now. “S-saaaah-sacrifices m-must be made.”

“Ah. I see,” he whispered, licking the shell of an ear again. “Well then, I guess I’ll get onto the ‘sacrifice’ part, hmm?”

Aster snaked down Jack’s chest, fingers and mouth teasing as he went, around the bandages, and he came to rest with his mouth at Jack’s buckle. He deftly undid the belt and fly, and then slithered further down to tug them off his hips. As soon as he’d freed Jack’s erection, he stopped, trapping the sprite’s legs in fabric. He snuffled at Jack’s cock for a moment, before lightly licking it from balls to tip, once.

“Evil!” Jack cried, trying to arch up off the bed. Aster caught his hips and held him down, not that Jack was fighting very much. “Totally evil. _Toootally_. Do that again.”

Aster hummed, and laved at Jack’s balls while feathering his fingers over the length of his cock. “Do what?”

Jack hissed, and glared down at him. “You’re supposed to be seducing me to the dark side, corrupting me, all that. Get on it. You’re not being a very good villain.”

Aster grinned sharply and pulled up, one hand still teasing Jack’s length while the other dipped out of sight, not that Jack could see it properly, tied down as he was. Aster fumbled slightly with the hidden bottle of lube, but managed to uncap it one-handed and dipped a finger in. His other hand left Jack’s cock - eliciting a groan of disappointment - to tug the pants down a couple inches further to give him room to place his lubed finger at Jack’s hole. He circled it lightly, and returned to gently licking along Jack’s cock, his other hand moving to play with his mate’s balls.

“N-now you’re just teasing,” Jack said, stammering only a little. He was still remarkably collected, for all that Aster was doing to him. Clearly, that was a problem that needed to be fixed.

His finger popped inside and immediately sought out Jack’s prostate, at the same time that he took Jack’s tip inside him mouth and started sucking.

“Fuck,” Jack said, and started chanting the word. His legs, still caught up in his pants, tried to thrash. Maybe spread apart. “Fuck, fuck, stop teasing start doing, fuck! Bunny!”

Aster pulled off Jack’s cock, eliciting another delicious whine. “Mmm? ‘Fuck’?” He grinned sharply. “In due time, love.”

He turned his attention back to Jack’s cock, swallowing it down to the base in one smooth motion, and starting to bob up and down, sucking lightly. He added another finger to Jack’s arse.

“I can’t come twice in five minutes,” Jack warned, and tried to kick again. “Gonna now. Stop stop stop stop stop!”

Aster pulled off, and grinned. “Oh? Didn’t I tell you? You only needed two pills for the pain. The third was… well, _special_.” And then swallowed Jack down again.

“Your medical license is going to be revoked,” Jack said. Well. Between groans, he said it. It took a bit of piecing together.

“Don’t have one,” he mumbled around Jack’s cock, sucking for all he was worth, scissoring his fingers at Jack’s rear and finally finding the prostate. He pressed against it, hard, and started rubbing back and forth.

“Oh my god!” Jack screamed, back arching. He came, quite hard if the incoherent sounds were anything, and twitched when Aster started licking up escaped drops.

Jack’s cock went half-flaccid for all of ten seconds and then, from the continued stimulation at his prostate, went rock hard again in moments.

“See? Isn’t this more _fun_?” Aster asked, grinning.

“Fuck you, rabbit,” Jack gasped. “Just because you have permission to surprise me….”

“Actually, no,” Aster pulled his fingers out and shimmied the pants down to Jack’s knees. “Fuck _you_.”

Aster quickly lined up and thrust the first two inches of his cock inside. He paused to allow Jack to adjust, only shimmying back and forth slightly to keep friction going.

“H-how many times will I stay hard?” Jack asked, and raised his eyebrows. “H-have to wonder.” He panted for a moment. “I mean, the past few trials didn’t last long.”

Aster hummed thoughtfully. And thrust another inch in. “Well… best guess, if this solution works as expected… oh…” He thrust another inch in. “Six, minimum. Ten, tops. And, no, you will not run out of seed.”

“Well,” Jack said, going utterly lax for a second. “Guess you’d better get to work.”

Aster smirked and leaned forward, paws landing to either side of Jack’s head. “I will. Gotta test it, yeah?”

“So losing your medical license,” Jack muttered. He tilted his head back into the pillows. “Filing the paperwork tomorrow.”

Aster hummed and captured Jack’s mouth in a hard kiss. And then thrust in the rest of the way, his hips slapping against Jack’s rear. Jack gasped into the kiss. Aster paused for a moment, and then began rolling his hips, pumping shallowly in and out. He eventually had to pull out of the kiss to gasp for air. Jack chose that moment to demonstrate how coherent he still was.

“Th-the rabbit n-needs to work m-more on his w-work ethic,” Jack said, grinning. “He m-makes a good s-start, but t-tends to get _l-lazy_ halfway through a p-project.”

Aster thrust sharply, angling for Jack’s prostate. And then repeated the action a few times. He reached up with one hand and gently angled Jack’s head so that he could see Aster thrusting.

And not coincidentally, his abdomen shimmering in the way that indicated shifting. He smirked when Jack’s eyes widened.

“Hey,” Jack said, smirking again. “Y-your employee review isn’t - isn’t finished. Care to make a last-ditch e-effort to improve?”

“Last ditch?” Aster drawled, bending slowly over until his mouth hovered over Jack’s cock, all the while continuing to thrust in a rapidly quickening rhythm. “Mate, I’m just getting _started_.”

And he swallowed Jack’s cock for the second time that night.

The orgasm was completely expected. Jack’s threats to his ears, however, were not. He flipped them back. Just in case. And pulled off enough to lap at Jack’s slightly softened cock, waiting for it to harden again.

Oh. Aaaah.

And apparently come for the first time himself. Jack groaned at the heat entering his body. And then hardened fully again.

Aster grinned and started mouthing the cock tip again.

“Making up for the picnic?” Jack asked, and snickered before Aster could reply. “Gonna be a long night, Cottontail. Think you can keep up?”

Aster hummed and sucked, hard. Jack came with a yelp.

“Already?” Jack exclaimed, awed.

Aster chuckled and got back to work.

Oh, was it _ever_ going to be a long night.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Tuesday, 15 October 2013 -- Warren, 9:11 am local time**

Jack snapped the cotton wraps around his wrists with hardly any effort, and caught one long ear in his hand. He had to admit, the formula was really something when it worked. Though, with how sore he was...

“Next time, warn me pills,” he mumbled.

Bunny hummed, barely awake, and tightened his grip around Jack’s middle. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt.

He tugged on the ear, and got a whine for his troubles. Idiot. “I mean it.”

Rather than replying, Aster thrust lightly.

_Oh._

Right. Hadn’t pulled out yet. And still very much hard. Jack sighed with the pleasurable feeling, and then paused.

“Did _you_ take any of those pills?”

He got a negatory hum, or what sounded like one, even as Bunny started thrusting languidly.

Jack glanced down at himself, but the night was over, and ten times was apparently the limit. Probably for the best, he was feeling sticky and oversensitive.

Seemed he’d have to just lie here and take it. Whatever.

And then he’d file the report to have Bunny’s medical license taken away. You know.

Tomorrow.

Maybe.

Aster poked his prostate and Jack shivered. Well, at least this was still pleasurable.

Thrust. Ah. Thrust. _Oooh._

Yeah, okay, _very_ much so.

Totally filing that report… later. _Much_ later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "We promised you all something nice last chapter. And hey, Australia didn't kill them after all, though not for lack of trying!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "And just in case it wasn't clear, yes, Jack had given Aster permission to try out some 'sex aids'. With or without surprise. Aster obviously chose surprise."


	38. Chapter 38

**Friday, 29 November 2013 -- Warren, early afternoon**

“Gretchen the Evil Medic says I need to wear the sling full-time if I want to be out of it for Christmas,” Jack said. He made a face, and scratched at the straps going over his good shoulder. “See me be responsible Regent ever again.”

“I thought I’d put the-” Musical words. Pookan really was lovely. “-in here, but it’s _here?_ ” Aster muttered. He wrenched his arm back, pulling something odd and technical out of the contraption. “Well, that’s what you get for breaking up a brawl between Kern and Quetza and whoever-the-hell that bear guy was.” Aster fiddled with the device, before shoving his hands back inside the machine. “Your lucky to have gotten off with just a dislocated shoulder. Stupid-” Musical word. “- _Fit_.”

“Look, Quetza’s just pissed because Tooth took my side in the end. Anyways, I can pick any of those guys up and toss them into a wall.” Properly braced and one-on-one, at least. “It’s not my fault Kern threw bear-guy into me just as Quetza decided grabbing my arm for his drunken rant was a good idea.”

Aster grunted. “Ha! Told ya it’d fit.” He shifted back from the machine and slapped the panel closed. He glanced over at Jack. “Yeah, well. He’s just lucky I forgave him that, seeing as I witnessed him taking aim at Quetza before you got in the way.”

“So, it’s calibrated?” Jack scratched at the strap again. How quickly could he ‘lose’ the sling and how deviant would the sexual favors have to be to keep Aster from getting him a new one?

“Stop that,” Aster said absently, reaching over to pull Jack’s hand away from scratching. “And no, it’s not calibrated. It’s…” Several musical words that sounded fairly harsh. Probably swear words. “That’ll take a bit more. But it _should_ calibrate correctly this time; that piece was just not designed for this. I’m having to jury-rig it a bit.”

“Yay, another blow job!”

Aster rolled his eyes, irritation belied by the fact that a faint grin flit across his face. “Yeah. S’pose so. Not now though. You need to rest that arm.”

Aster shifted from his crouched position to standing and started tapping at the console. Several lights came to life rapidly and the thing started beeping at him irregularly. He smacked the side with a paw and the beeps evened out.

“I can rest my arm in bed and you could give me a blow job,” Jack suggested.

“Later,” Aster grunted. He kicked the bottom panel of the contraption and it squeaked. “There we go, stupid-” Musical, harsh words again. Yep. Swear words. He really needed to learn Pookan at some point.

“I think you’re repeating yourself.” Jack scratched at the strap, and sighed. “Why does this thing have to take forever, anyways?”

“Because you about near broke the socket, and that’s a complicated area to heal, so it has to go slow,” Aster muttered, frowning at the console. He tapped a few keys and a holographic screen blipped to life. Wait-

“Whoa, whoa, what? Glowing things, it never did that the last seven-hundred and fifty-two times you did this!” Jack leaned forward to point, which hurt, so he stopped doing that. Until he figured out leaning _back_ and pointing with his _foot_ actually worked pretty well.

Aster grinned proudly. “That’s because it’s working. _Now_ I can calibrate it properly and test our genetic material for compatibility.”

He started humming to himself as he fiddled with settings and whatnot. At least as far as Jack could tell; he didn’t exactly understand the Pooka-tech just yet. Though that humming sounded suspiciously like words. Probably was, actually. Damn, where’d he put that one book he’d found…?

“Aha! Why’d I leave it between the couch cushions?” Jack muttered, and flipped open the dictionary. “Bunny, I’ve been meaning to ask. Why’s this in Latin?”

Bunny flicked his gaze over to Jack, and frowned. “Where’d you find that?”

“Around.” Jack scowled at the papers. “I’m pretty sure you don’t spell things this way. Also, is this the Pookan phonetic?”

“Thought I’d misplaced it yonks ago.” Aster shrugged. “And Latin because I wrote it sometime about two thousand years ago. Or so.” He leaned over and squinted. “Yeah, that is. Why?”

“Because…” He found the phrase he wanted, and did his best with the tongue-twisting sounds. Sounded a bit like an Irishman who’d learnt Chinese from a Polishman trying to buy a drink.

In that ‘doesn’t know what he’s saying and trying anyways until he gets a guinness’ kind of way.

Aster frowned for a moment, before chuckling. “Jackie, I think you mean-” Musical sounds. Ah. There was a slight dip he’d missed. “Love you too, by the way.”

“What’d I say?”

“‘I love sex toys.’” Aster grinned. “It was kind of cute.”

“Your dictionary sucks rotten eggs.” Jack tossed the book aside. “Utterly useless for learning the language. You’ll have to make time and teach me personally. Hands on. Mouth on.”

Aster blinked. “You… want to learn?”

“Didn’t we have this conversation already?” he complained. “If we’re already in the married habit of you ignoring what I say and me bringing it up… holy crap, I’ve turned into a stereotype.”

He rubbed at the back of his head, ears drooping. “I, ah… don’t recall a previous conversation. But I’ll take your word for it. Sorry mate. And yeah, I’d love to. It’s just… no one’s ever wanted to learn before.”

Jack smirked. Hard to be upset when a) he wasn’t upset and b) Aster was pretty damn cute when he was apologetic. “It’s okay. Also, you promised me sex. Just saying.”

Aster snorted. “I remember _that_. But later, I need to get this thing calibrating properly or we’ll _never_ figure it out.”

“I thought you just calibrated it!” His arm protested the movement. Oh, right, don’t gesture with the arm. Gesture with the foot. “That’s what the glowing lights were about!”

“No, that was getting it to _run_ correctly. Like… getting one of those computers humans use properly constructed and booted up into the operating system. I still have to calibrate the measuring equipment for your DNA. Which, by the way, color me surprised: humans have a double helix too.” Aster grinned.

“Pretty sure scientists figured that one out a while back.” He paused to think about it. “Early sixties. Nineteen-sixties.”

Aster hummed thoughtfully. “I really do need to pay more attention to their science now, don’t I? Exponential growth curves and all.” He turned to look at his console and frowned. “Huh. Wouldn’t be surprised if they hit a singularity in the next century, at the rate they’re going. Assuming they don’t blow themselves up first.”

“Singularity?” Jack asked. Being wary was perfectly justified, he decided. It might lead to another lecture.

The Pooka waved him off. “Oh, just a technological singularity. Nothing major. Pooka went through a few of those over their history. It’s when artificial intelligence surpasses biological capacity and starts creating at an extremely rapid pace. Technology tends to jump ahead by at least a few hundred years before the ‘dynamic creation engines’, as they’re called, break down.”

Right. Nothing _major_. Jack rolled his eyes and didn’t comment. “Okay, okay… You keep watch for that, I’ll amuse myself with games and old fashioned snowball fights.”

Aster didn’t seem to notice, or ignored his comment, and fiddled with a few more spots on the console. Was it even right to call them buttons when it was more like an image on a screen? Though even that wasn’t a good metaphor…

“There,” Aster pronounced a few minutes later. “Done. It’ll calibrate itself now. Take a few days to get it right, if all goes well. Then we can test.”

“And then blowjob for samples.”

Aster smirked and sauntered up to Jack. “Well. Blowjobs aren’t _just_ for samples, you know. Hows about I pamper my poor, injured mate? Would he like a massage and perhaps a… _treat,_ after?”

Jack grinned, and stood up. He caught Aster by the bandolier strap, and pulled. “Cut the baby-talk and maybe you’ll get the treat.”

“Massage first. I can work those muscles so they ache less. _And_ , if you’re good… I’ll replace the strap with something less irritating.” Aster’s smirk turned knowing. “I’m sure I have a Light Splint around here somewhere.”

“The solid light thingy, huh? Awesome! I love wearing tech that makes Weyland sob like a baby.”

Aster gently placed an arm around Jack’s shoulder and started guiding him towards the bedroom. “Well then. Can’t disappoint my mate, now can I? You go make yourself comfy and I’ll be right in with the oil. I’ll go find the splint after.”

Jack smirked, and caught up his staff. And then caught the rabbit up with the staff, hooking the bandolier with the crook. “Forget the oil and bring the magic hands, Cottontail.”

The look on Aster’s face promised more than it had a right to. Jack grinned.

_Success. Life is good._

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Wednesday, 25 December 2013 -- North Greenland Coast, Fortress, 5:04 pm local time**

Aster kept looking at the door anxiously. He couldn’t help it; he wanted to be the first one to see whatever it was Jack wore this year. Kern nudged him in the side.

“Y’know he’ll come right to you,” the cervid commented dryly. “He always will. You won’t miss a thing.”

“That’s not the point,” he muttered. “He said the outfit was going to be a surprise.”

Kern blinked. “I’d expected him to have you help him into it, to be honest. But he’s keeping it from you _too_? Must be special, that dress.”

“There’s a new rule that he’s not allowed to wear dresses to these things.” Aster didn’t look at Kern when he said it, so the cervid wouldn’t know who added the rule.

“Really?” Kern said, surprise coloring his voice. “That’s not unexpected, but… I figured Odin’d hold off for a few more years, at least.”

Aster cleared his throat. “I guess some guys just snap.”

He resolutely ignored the look Kern shot him.

“Uh huh. Suppose so, at that,” Kern said slowly. “Hey, did you hear? Anika’s bringing a surprise date to the party this year! She’s not dated in… well, I think before Rome fell, at least, if not before.” He leaned over and lowered his voice. “Most think it’s because she’s too cold.”

“Unlike some of you, I don’t live for the gossip,” Aster pointed out. “And… too cold? What the… Doesn’t that evil medic of yours have an inoculation against stupidity?”

Kern shrugged. “Gretchen? Probably. Maybe. Doesn’t mean it takes.” He grinned. “Not that I’ve ever believed it; I remember her last fling. That was _far_ from a cold shoulder. Anyway, I digress.” He cleared his throat and fidgeted. “And, ah… I was wondering something, if it’s not too much trouble to ask.”

“Nothing for your fan fiction, is it?” he asked. Not warily. Because he wasn’t wary about being written about. He was the Easter Bunny, he got wrote about a lot.

Kern blanched. “No! No, of course not. It’s silly, really. I… oh, nevermind.”

The cervid turned to go.

“Look.” Aster pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ask your question, I won’t mock and I’ll take it seriously. Just…”

Kern paused and turned around, wary. “What’s the catch? I know you’re still not comfortable with me. Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve talked with me this long.”

The catch, the catch… actually, there was one thing he’d really like Kern to stop doing. “Y’know that little secret love nest you’ve got in my Warren?” he asked dryly. “It’s not a secret and it’s my favorite meditation spot. Or it was…” He looked pointedly at Kern, and then searched the room quickly for the kitsune.

Kern blushed crimson. “Oh. Aaaah…” he giggled nervously. “You… know about that, huh? Should I, ah… just move it, or… leave?”

“Move it. There’s a side cavern I’ve never used. On the other side of the Warren. Because you apparently don’t come with volume control.” Neither did he and Jack, but then again, it was _his_ Warren. “You can’t miss it; the pink glowing mushrooms on the ceiling are kind of a giveaway.”

Kern visibly brightened. “Oh! Ah, sure. I can do that. And, ah… since you insisted, my question. It’s, ah, really silly, really… but um… could I maybe have my very very private wedding in the Warren?”

It took Aster a moment to piece it together, since Kern had said the last bit in a rush.

“So they said yes?” he asked dryly, as much to cover up shock as because… well, he was covering up shock. He hadn’t figured the kitsune would agree, and he hadn’t figured Kern would want to get married in the Warren.

Kern’s embarrassed grin turned besotted. “Yeah… yeah, they did. We, ah… celebrated. Vigorously.” He blushed again. “But yeah, they did. I admit, it was kind of a shock to me that I felt this way. And that they returned it.”

“I heard the celebration,” Aster said, even drier than before. “It was very… celebratory. Apparently.”

So apparently Kern’s blush could go down to his navel. Interesting.

The cervid rubbed the back of his head. “Heh, you did? Right, of course you did. It’s your place. Sorry ‘bout that. We got carried away.” He cleared his throat. “But your place really is the best for getting away from all the snooping gossipers here.”

“If you have the honeymoon somewhere else, you can have the wedding in the Warren. Just not near Easter.”

“Oh, of course not. We’re planning something around the Autumnal Equinox, actually… if… if that’s okay?”

“Right time for it, since the Warren’s in Australia. Spring’ll be starting there.” Wait. Had he actually agreed to Kern having the wedding in his Warren?

Kern smiled brightly. “Thank you so much, Bunnymund! I should go let the other two know.”

Aster rolled his eyes, but smiled. A little. A little smile. While Kern’s back was turned. No need to encourage the big lug.

He turned back to the doorway, and kept an eye out for his mate. No dresses. Still, he’d worn the kilt again, just to make sure that whatever Jack came in wearing, it wouldn’t result in any accidents.

Maybe next time he’d pull out his old uniform. The reactions should be amusing, he supposed, and it’d be a bit of revenge on the winter spirit for last year.

Pity he hadn’t thought of that before now, though; Jack sure seemed to like a man in uniform.

There was a bit of stir by the doorway, and then Jack walked in.

He was wearing a dress.

Well. It was either a dress, or a bunch of ribbons.

Aster groaned, and covered his face with both hands. And thanked El-Ahrairah for the kilt he’d thought to wear.

Several wolf whistles resounded throughout the room. Aster suppressed a surge of jealousy, while Jack just laughed it off.

“Hey there, Cottontail. What’s the tartan?” He felt Jack’s hands wrap around his wrists, and tug. He lowered his hands, and managed to keep his gaze above the neck. For his own sanity. And, you know, personal reasons. It wouldn’t do to wander around the party for the rest of the night with his … ‘little friend’ hanging out in the wind. Even if no one could see it.

He cleared his throat. Jack smirked at him. Bastard. “Just something I threw together. Probably should’ve dug out the ol’ uniform, but I didn’t think of it until a few minutes ago. Maybe next year.”

Jack’s eyebrows went up. “Uniform?”

“I’ve told you before I was military, once. Yonks ago. Uniforms went with that; I arrived in one.” He shrugged. “Got lazy after a few million years and stopped bothering to wear clothes. Not like anyone was around to notice.”

“Not like I’m complaining, but, uh, uniform? How come I’ve never seen this uniform?” Jack tugged on his wrists again, and somehow got his hands another inch lower.

He resolutely ignored that, and kept his gaze level at Jack’s face. “‘Cause it’s packed away somewhere in the closet. The… ‘Closet of Doom’, I think you’ve called it.”

“Because it’s a closet and it is doom-full, yes.” Jack grinned at him. “Aren’t you going to look?”

Aster gulped. “I… ah, was trying to avoid any… untoward reactions.” His ears drooped.

“Maybe I like your reactions,” Jack murmured, and stepped closer. He must’ve put on perfume or something, because Aster could smell… asters. He glared, even as his nose twitched at the scent.

“Asters? Really?”

Jack grinned. “Maybe I like staking your claim openly.”

Aster chuckled, despite himself. “S’pose. Alright.” He took a deep breath and stepped back. “Let’s have a look at you.”

Jack twirled in place, arms held out. The… ‘outfit’… swirled around him. If there hadn’t been any alterations done to it, the dress would’ve gone down to Jack’s ankles. Up at his shoulders, the fabric was white, vaguely glittery, and it got darker the lower it went, with more sparkles, until at the bottom it was midnight blue, though half the time it looked silver from the glitter.

If it hadn’t been altered, it would’ve been quite tasteful.

Instead, someone had decided to cut dozens of slits in the skirt. The shortest slit was right in front, ending just below Jack’s groin. The longest ones were on either hip, extending almost all the way to his waist.

It made it very clear he wasn’t wearing underwear.

And he was suddenly _very_ glad he’d worn the kilt again. Just in case. Bastard.

Despite himself, his ears perked forward in interest, even as he averted his gaze and blushed brightly enough that his nose changed color. Jack giggled and stepped into his line of sight, hands coming to rest on his biceps.

“Do you like it?”

“What’d that poor piece of cloth ever do to you?” he asked, and gestured - vaguely - at the ‘skirt’.

“Mmm?” Jack glanced down. “Oh, the slits? Well… I felt like it? Wasn’t showing enough skin for my tastes.” He idly ran a finger down Aster’s arm, drifting off of it when he got to the wrist and the hand coming to rest on his hip. “So… do you like it?”

“I’d like it better in private,” he said, not quite growling. But the implication was there.

Jack’s grinned turned feral. “Oh, I’m sure…”

The hand on his hip snaked down suddenly and Aster gasped as Jack found him, hard and wanting.

Jack’s eyes brightened considerably at his discovery. “Oooh, I _see_. Well. Glad to have that effect on you, Bunny.”

“Arsehole.” Aster managed to pull Jack’s hand off his groin, somehow, and swallowed. “We’re in _public_.”

“In a corner, behind a pillar, or did you not notice the light pressure I’d used to push you backwards?” Jack smirked. “Methinks the kangaroo is distracted.”

“Your fault,” he muttered, and took a deep breath. Then another, because Jack scented with asters was… really good. “We’re at a party, we are not sneaking off immediately to have sex.”

Jack pouted, and then sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’d say I was sorry for the, ah, ‘reaction’ I got, but…” He grinned sharply.

Aster snorted, shaking his head in exasperation. “Yeah. You’re not. Frostbite, if I didn’t love you….”

“But you _do_ ,” Jack said, and invaded his personal space with malice aforethought, after-thought, and during-thought.

Aster tugged Jack’s head under his chin and rubbed. “Yeah. I do.” He pushed him back to arm’s length. “Now go. Shoo. Make your rounds. The sooner you’ve done your party business, the sooner I might be persuaded to find an empty room for a quickie.”

“Several dozen quickies,” Jack suggested, and turned. Then turned back, making a complete circle. “Oh. What’d Kern want?”

He gaped for a moment. “How’d you know?” Then held up his paw. “Wait. Nevermind. I don’t think I want to know. He, ah…” Aster leaned forward and whispered, “Wanted to have his wedding in the Warren. Trying to keep it… how’d you put that once… on the… ‘down low’?”

Jack’s eyes widened, and he clapped both hands over his mouth. “You’re shitting me,” he whispered back. “Seriously? He kept that from me? I’m going to kill the guy… and we’re going to have to give him the best bachelor’s party ever, just for the pictures.”

Aster snickered. “Perhaps. You’ll have to work that out with him, Raijin, and Izanami. There _are_ two guys involved, remember.”

“We can have separate bachelor parties and Tooth can help with the hen’s night. Quetza can give them lap dances.”

Aster choked. “Aaaah… what? Wait, no don’t repeat that. I don’t want the mental images.”

“I don’t know why not, he gives good ones.”

He glanced over to where he could see Quetzalcoatl slithering around, accompanying Toothiana. Lap dances. Him. _Seriously_? He shook his head, trying not to picture how that’d work.

He gestured weakly at Jack. “Go. Go on. Before I change my mind and find some way to punish you for the images I’m trying to avoid.”

“I’ve got suggestions for punishments.” Jack trailed a finger down the center of Aster’s chest. “Just throwing that out there. If you’re interested.”

Aster shuddered. “... no. Yes. I don’t-” He growled possessively. Jack shivered. Good. “Go. Do your things. I’ll be here, wallowing in my sexual frustration.”

“I won’t leave you to wallow long.” Jack grinned, and turned back to the rest of the room. He made it all of one step before there was another stir at the door. Then he started bouncing up and down on his toes, clearly trying to see over everyone in the way. “Who came in?”

Aster rolled his eyes and pulled Jack’s staff out from behind him. Apparently Jack had forgotten he’d left it with the Pooka for safekeeping while he changed. “Here. Shorty.”

“Just for that you don’t get to punish me,” Jack muttered, and then hopped up onto the crook of the staff.

It did _interesting_ things to the sliced up skirt. Particularly from behind.

Aster wasn’t complaining about the view. Though he did have to adjust his kilt.

Just in case.

“Huh,” Jack said. He stopped crouching, stood up, and then fell off. Aster caught him. “Anika just walked in with North!”

Aster spluttered. “She… he… _what_?”

“That’s what I said.” Ignoring, of course, the fact that Jack had been more coherent. “C’mon, let’s go see. I always figured North and Phil had a thing…”

Aster spluttered again at the very idea, at a loss for words. He helped Jack to his feet regardless, though, and handed him his staff. By then, he’d regained a semblance of composure, and said, “North was always a ladies’ man, Jackie. Wherever did you get that idea?”

“Well, think about it. You and me, Tooth and Quetza, Sandy’s rumored to have a thing with Hypnos. The trend is kind of obvious.”

He sighed gustily. “Right. Doesn’t mean anything, other than that our stalkers keep falling for us irresistible bunch.” He smirked. “North’s straighter than an arrow, Frostbite. Haven’t you heard about his bandit king days?”

“Sorry, I was more interested in hearing about the Easter Bunny than Santa Claus. Artists are hot, guys with bellies like bowls of jelly are not.” Jack grinned at him. “C’mon. Let’s go say hi.”

Jack took his paw and tugged him along. Which was good, since he was too busy grinning like a fool; it didn’t matter how many times Jack reminded him, he still felt a flash of pride that he’d managed to gain such dutiful, if originally annoying, attention from one such as Jack.

And Jack had said he was better than North. Always a bonus.

Trailing after a Regent, even if said Regent was Jack-in-a-dress, meant that getting through crowds was less of a hassle than usual. People, at least WINTER agents, got out of Jack’s way. And didn’t eye Jack’s legs too obviously, at least not with Aster glaring at them.

“North! Anika! What’s going on, what is this, why didn’t you share the news?” Jack waved off the last few Agents, and beamed at the Snow Queen and their fellow Guardian.

North grinned brightly and laughed his loud and deep Santa-laugh. “Was secret, of course! She wanted to surprise everyone! It worked, да?”

“Oh yeah, it worked,” Jack said, and grinned. He held out his fist to Anika.

The Snow Queen arched one regal brow, and then bumped her fist against Jack’s. She smiled faintly, in triumph. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and her and Jack excused themselves to make their rounds as Regents. Which left Aster with North.

Who, as it turned out, wasn’t as insufferable when he was waxing poetic in Russian about Anika.

Only mildly annoying.

Thankfully, he only had to wait another ten minutes or so for Jack to return and, after an obligatory interaction with his would-be-father-in-law - were Odin actually Jack’s father directly, rather than several dozen times removed, not that you could tell the difference - he managed to finally drag Jack out onto a balcony that was, somehow, not crisp and cold. Wards?

“Or maybe I just don’t want you freezing your feet off,” Jack suggested.

Aster smiled down at Jack softly. “You’re the best mate, mate.” And then frowned at himself. “That sounded better in my head.”

Jack smirked, and wrapped his arms around Aster’s waist. “I liked it.”

Aster gently wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist in turn. “Wanna go home, get up to some hijinks? Maybe scare a few agents away?”

“Anyone snuck off to the Warren for a bit of nookie deserves to be scarred for life,” Jack agreed.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 26 December 2013 -- Warren, 8:32 am local time**

“So, we time-traveled to not-Christmas Day,” Jack said. He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth with his hand. “Huzzah for date lines.”

“Boxing Day, technically, in several countries.” Aster shrugged. “Not that I’m completely sure what that actually entails, mind. But I digress.”

He reached over and tugged Jack close. “So, we were planning something-something at the party, weren’t we-”

A shrill beep interrupted him.

“What was that?” Jack asked, scowling. “Also, if you want to know about Boxing Day, I’ll tell you, but there was something more interesting happening. Also, beep. What beep. Why beep. Where beep?”

Aster frowned for a moment, before his face lit up. “The analysis is done!”

He dashed over to the console and began tapping away madly. The holographic display spun into existence and shortly displayed two parallel double helices, with several areas highlighted in red.

“Bunny, did we just shove sexy times over to the side for another calibration thingy?” He folded his arms. “If you did, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

He either didn’t hear Jack, or was ignoring him, muttering musically. Jack stepped over to bop him on the head, but was startled when Bunny spun on the spot and grabbed him by the arms. “It worked!”

“Argh! Giving me a heart attack?” Jack scowled. “What worked?”

Aster spun back to the display and pointed. “Look, look! See these few areas in red? Those are possible points of incompatibility, but ones I can adjust for!” He turned back and grinned brightly. “We’re compatible!”

“I heard incompatibility and then compatible, and I’m - wait what?” Jack blinked. “Really?”

Aster was practically vibrating in excitement. “Yes! I can shift those minor spots away when we want to-” He paused, and whispered, awed, “-to have kits.”

“One, awesome. Two, you can shift your _DNA_? That’s… different. Cool, but different. Third, awesome. Now?”

Bunny’s grin was liable to break his face, if he wasn’t careful. He shrugged. “Yeah. Harder, but doable. Don’t usually bother; never had a good reason before. I figure it can keep until we’re, ah… ready. That is, if you’re still interested…?”

“Did you just miss me asking ‘now’ just… now?” Jack leaned forward until he was all but draped over Bunny. “Idiot rabbit.”

Aster kissed Jack lightly. “Your idiot rabbit.”

“Yeah. What would you do without me?” Jack stepped away, and held his arms out. “Anyways. We’re compatible. I’m guessing you don’t want babies right _now_. And I don’t think you complimented my dress properly before.”

Aster sobered somewhat and shifted to a standing position. The fact that he loomed a bit over Jack was totally a random and accidental thing. Totally.

“Not right now, no. Best to wait until after Easter, at least. Gestation takes several months. But we can discuss that later.” Aster smirked. “As for complimenting your dress….”

He dropped his kilt. And was _still hard._

“Someone’s been taking his vitamins,” Jack snarked.

“What’s say you, me, and my ‘little friend’ go and… _demonstrate_ my appreciation of your dress?”

Jack’s grin was a touch feral, and he caught hold of Bunny’s wrists. “I think your friend isn’t so little. I also like this idea.”

Jack squawked a moment late when Aster gathered him up, bridal style, and trotted off to the bedroom. But he was emphatically _not_ complaining.

Especially when Aster started to do that _thing_ with his tongue.

 _Definitely_ not complaining.

At all.

Today was the _best_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Jack likes his dresses, loves distracting Bunny, and keeps asking if Bunny wants kids. Methinks he doth ask too much for mere curiosity."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Jack just can't get his mind off sex these days. Well, who can blame him when he has a sexy Bunnymund to molest whenever he feels like it?"


	39. Chapter 39

**Tuesday, 31 December 2013 -- North Greenland Coast, Fortress, 11:38 pm local time**

For the first time since ever, Jack Frost was not wearing a dress to one of WINTER’s parties. He got his share of odd looks for it, but the smug smile seemed to turn everyone off of asking. Probably for the best. It’d be really, really tempting to go into detail about just what the dress did to his Bunny, information only Kern would appreciate.

Which was a big nope right there.

At any rate, Jack wasn’t sure he minded swapping out the inevitable dress - his creativity was getting strained in finding the appropriate balance between tasteful and slutwear - for the latest incarnation of his uniform. The tight leather was just as revealing as the dresses had been, and theoretically covered more of him. And Odin couldn’t even argue, because it was a WINTER _uniform_.

Speaking of Bunny… Jack looked around and frowned. Sighting Kern, he wandered over.

“Hey Kern, you seen my Cottontail?” Jack asked when he was within earshot.

“No Boss. Can’t say that I have. I figured he’d be glued to your side?” Kern replied with a lazy shrug.

“Apparently not,” Jack muttered. “He said he was getting ready. Some elves snuck into the Warren and he wanted to wait for the inevitable kilt to dry.”

Kern frowned. “How’d they get in? I mean, we proofed the place pretty good last time, so…” The cervid sighed. “Was it Doodle?”

“It must’ve been Doodle, because none of the other elves are quite that crazy.” Jack folded his arms, staff tapping thoughtfully against one calf. “That one’s way too obsessed with the eggs.”

“He looks like an egg,” Kern reminded him. “So, ah… I’ve not had a chance to ask, with you having been so busy in the last week with that infestation in China and all, but did Bunnymund mention anything about, ah… me…?”

Jack didn’t grin. Really. Instead he did his best to look as sober as a judge. “Apparently you’re moving from that not-so-hidden clearing over to a cave?”

Kern squinted darkly at Jack. “Why did everyone know about it but never _say_ anything?”

“You don’t talk about your fanfic about us,” Jack pointed out. “We didn’t really want to bring up the loud… noises… because it’d mean talking about it.”

Kern shuffled his hooves and glanced to the side, flushing lightly. “Right, ah… right.” He glanced at Jack out of the corner of his eye. “Anything else?”

“I don’t know, was there something else?” Jack looked away, because he couldn’t hide his grin any longer.

There was silence for a few heartbeats, and then… “Stop playing coy. You lying liar who lies. I know you too well. You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”

“You told Bunny first?” Jack turned back and beamed at the overgrown deer. “Bunny? Not me? I thought I was your _best_ friend, Kern!” He pressed the back of his wrist to his forehead, playing the dramatic. “I am _hurt_.”

Kern fidgeted. “I wanted permission for the wedding first!”

He slapped a hand over his mouth and glanced around, making sure no one heard his outburst. Seemed safe, as far as Jack could tell; they were standing next to a waterfall of… something very much like a slushie, actually, and it was fairly noisy. Strange. Who thought that’d be a good idea?

Jack poked at the flowing slush with the butt of his staff. “Kern, does this thing look familiar to you?”

“No…? Wait. Is that...?” Kern shook his head. “Can’t be… is it?”

“Finish your sentences, minion,” Jack said absently.

Kern cleared his throat. “Isn’t that the fountain you kept whining about, back when you first joined? I swear, you bitched about the pointlessness of a frozen fountain for _decades_.”

“And now, what, it’s supposed to provide us with slush drinks?” Slush that was surprisingly resistant to further freezing. Jack considered ignoring said resistance and making a point.

Kern frowned and poked it, tasting the slush. “Huh. Blue raspberry.”

“You just - they could’ve _poisoned_ it and you - how are you still _alive_?”

“Jack. This is _WINTER_. Worst that’d happen is a temporary potion that’d embarrass the imbiber,” Kern said flatly, quirking an eyebrow at Jack. “Seriously, it should be perfectly fine-”

Kern hiccuped. A blue bubble floated out of his mouth. It popped over his head and dropped a small snowball on him.

“Well, shit.”

Jack leaned on his staff, expression utterly flat. “I denounce you as my chief minion. I need to get a new one. Have your stuff out of the Warren by morning.”

Kern looked at Jack imploringly. “But Jaaack-”

There was a commotion at the front door and they were immediately distracted from their banter.

“Huh, who just came in?” Jack shifted, and elbowed Kern in the side. “You’re taller. Hints?”

Kern leaned up on the tips of his hooves - Jack still had no idea how he balanced like that - and frowned for a long moment, before his eyes widened in surprise. “Ah. Uh… wow.”

“That’s not a hint, minion,” Jack pointed out. “Never mind, I’ll go look myself. I mean it about getting your stuff out of the Warren, ye of no self preservation skills!”

“Jack.” Kern cleared his throat and looked at Jack. “You, ah… you’re lucky he’s yours, or I’d tap that in a heartbeat.”

Huh. There was only one person Kern could be talking about. “He’d never let you. You’d be a eunuch first.” He bounced as he started walking away.

“Not the point!” Kern called after him. “Prepare thyself! And check for drool!”

Was it waving goodbye if you also flipped the guy off at the same time? Jack resolved to wonder about it later. Like, never.

The crowd was unusually reluctant to part before him like the Red Sea, so he had to employ the weapons of short and skinny people; viciously sharp elbows and a nasty turn of mind. At least, being a Regent, no one thumped him back.

“Out of the _way_ , or I swear I’ll - _heeellooo_.” Jack gaped. He couldn’t help it.

Bunny was wearing _clothes_. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken…

Bunny had found his _uniform_.

Jack checked for drool, and wiped his hand surreptitiously on his leg. Right, uh… _wow_.

Bunny’s uniform had actually sounded pretty hokey, when described to him. A bottle green, thigh-length coat - velvet, no less - with gold braid at the shoulders and four gold buttons - shaped like eggs, of course - on the front. The collar was red, some kind of soft-looking fabric that wasn’t velvet. There were two smaller egg buttons there, too. The sleeves were made of the same fabric as the collar, but black, with gold embroidery that probably meant something to Bunny and Sandy, but no one else in the room.

There was a purple sash. A purple. Sash. That wrapped tightly around Bunny’s waist, emphasising how narrow it was compared to his shoulders, and the sash made Jack think bad things considering he was wearing a skintight uniform and in public.

There wasn’t any place for the bandolier, but Bunny had either thought ahead or the string of belt pouches below the sash were part of the uniform. The pouches rested atop the lower coat, partially covering some kind of red cloth that Jack couldn’t figure the reason for, but didn’t much care either because Bunny was wearing glasses too.

They were green. The lenses, that was. The frames were gold. And the glasses looked like two eggs that’d been set on their sides, pointy ends in.

Jack made sure he was standing straight, no knuckles dragging on the floor or anything, and very suavely said, “ _Grrrkt_.”

Bunny tipped the glasses slightly down his muzzle and just _looked_ at Jack, smugger than Jack’d ever seen him. He felt weak in the knees.

Bunny sauntered over to him, staff jangling rhythmically - Jack noted distantly that the top of it had one larger ring, which looked sharp, atop it, with several more hung through the first - and stopped within arms reach.

“Whatcha think, Jacko?” Bunny asked, the smugness rolling off him in waves and coloring his tone deliciously.

Jack suppressed a shiver. Bunny’s smirk widened.

Okay, maybe he’d failed to suppress it.

Whatever. Sexy Bunny in front of him. Who cared about anything else?

“I think we could give Odin that aneurysm I’ve been aiming for the last few centuries and I can do you right here, right now,” he growled, reaching out to grab a handful of deliciously soft velvet coat.

Aster snagged Jack’s hand and turned it in his paw, linking their fingers and tugging Jack after him. “Well, I’d at least like to sit and observe the… what’d you call it, shenanigans? For a bit before you do me ‘right here, right now.’”

“Oh my god you have to wear the glasses,” Jack groaned, following helplessly. “I _need_ this with the passion of a thousand fiery suns, Bunny.”

“Wasn’t planning on taking them off, love.” Bunny sat, propped the staff next to the sofa he’d claimed, snagged Jack’s from his boneless fingers, placed it next to his, and then pat the spot next to him. “Sit with me?”

“How about on you?” Jack said, crawling onto Bunny’s lap without waiting for an answer. “This. You had _this_ -” he fingered the coat buttons, “- and you wore kilts. _Kilts_ , Bunny. Uniform. Or kilt. I gotta say…” He trailed off into a growl, and licked his lips.

“Yes?” he prompted, smirking returning full-force.

Yeah, okay, forget words, because Jack’s tongue failed him. So he leaned forward and kissed Bunny, fingers tangling into the soft fluff at his cheeks - softer than the velvet - and hips grinding forward and down and leather getting really, _really_ confining about his groin.

Bunny purred into the kiss and accepted the almost immediate invasion of his mouth by Jack’s tongue. The purr deepened, and vibrated throughout Jack’s body - and did funny things to his libido.

Jack pulled back and gasped, “Buuuny! Not fair! You know what your purring does to me!”

“And this is supposed to dissuade me, _how_?” Bunny asked, hands wandering up and down Jack’s back to his hips, and up to his shoulders, and then down again. Made it very hard to think.

He had enough brain cells left to come to a rather simple conclusion, though: the coat had to come off. _Now_. He groaned, and started fumbling at the buttons, trying to fit them through the holes and failing. Either because fitting egg-shaped buttons through round holes was harder than he’d ever expected, or because he couldn’t feel his fingertips.

You know. Either or.

“Oh my god Bunny, you found the uniform!”

Jack twitched, and turned with a snarl. “Kern -! You’re not Kern.” He squinted, and blinked to clear his vision. “Tooth?”

Aster laughed. Tooth giggled, and nodded. “Hi Jack. Am I… interrupting?”

A heavy, sibilant sigh reverberated to Jack’s right. “ _Please_ be interrupting,” Quetzalcoatl muttered.

“I can throw you through a wall,” Jack reminded Quetza. “Just saying. And the Wind can beat you any day of the week if you try shifting into air. And, uh…” He looked around. Behind Tooth and Quetza were a bunch of interested-looking agents. “Looks like interrupting, and looks like a good thing.”

The young agents made a show of their disgruntlement, and wandered off. Aster snickered behind him. Jack swatted his arm without looking.

“No snickering at the Regent,” he admonished. “It’s not good for morale.”

Quetza snickered. Tooth giggled again.

Jack flailed his arms at her. “No giggling either! Ist verboten!”

“German now?” Bunny asked, murmuring into the back of Jack’s neck. “Where’d you learn that?”

Jack turned his head enough so he could eye the Pooka sideways. “Mein vater.”

Bunny trailed his hand up Jack’s side, nails dragging lightly over the leather. “Ich verstehe,” he said, smirking… like a smirky thing and Jack’s brain was threatening to turn off. “We’ll have to investigate your fluency later.”

Jack blinked. “Uh…”

Tooth tittered again. Again. “Bunny, where was the uniform hiding, anyway?” she asked.

 _Thank god for distractions,_ Jack mused dazedly.

“Oh, back of my closet,” Bunny said, no longer doing brain-killing things with his hands. “Had to move the _chrysómallon déras_ to find it.”

Jack wasn’t the only one to reach up and massage his forehead, thankfully. Quetza was doing the same thing, with both hands and tail tip, muttering, “The _Golden Fleece?_ ”

“Have you tried cataloguing what’s in there?” Quetza asked after a moment.

“Figure’d I’d wait for a baby agent to piss me off. Cruel and unusual punishment,” Aster deadpanned.

Jack snorted a laugh. “... no one heard me do that. Or they get thrown through a wall. Twice.”

“Why, because it’d be undignified?” Quetza teased. Tooth smacked him on one pectoral, which… just made the overgrown serpent look happy, so it clearly wasn’t doing its job as a deterrent.

“Stop teasing him, or no sex tonight,” Tooth admonished offhandedly.

Jack choked. And then gestured between Tooth and Quetza. “ _What_?”

Tooth blushed crimson. “Oh, ah… forgot we were with company for a moment. Pardon.”

Quetza, who had looked appropriately quelled at her threat, swelled with pride in the next moment, almost literally, and favored Jack with the smuggest smug that ever did smug.

“Dude, I have _Bunny_ ,” Jack pointed out.

Quetza frowned. “And? Did he help write the _Kama Sutra_?”

“Only bits of it,” Bunny said. “And I did most of the _Kamaledhiplava_.”

“The _Ananga Ranga_ ,” Tooth translated. “I’d forgotten you’d written most of that.”

Jack and Quetza looked from Tooth, to Bunny, to each other, and then said slowly, and in unison, “We’re so lucky.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Good Friday, 18 April 2014 -- Warren, “2 days until Easter/not enough time!” (according to Aster)**

Bunny was muttering again. And looking at lists.

“... I’m _sure_ I did the handpainted ones already. They should have been done… four days ago? Right, right….”

Jack wouldn’t have known if that were true; he’d been out tackling a moron who’d been poking around Australia, just to avoid the hubbub for a day. He supposed he could ask Kern, but why bother? Bunny knew what he was doing.

“Hey, handsome,” he called, risking a few steps forward. “You look more stressed than usual.”

Bunny about jumped out of his skin. “Whaaa-? Oh, Jack! You gave me a fright! Don’t _do_ that! Made my hearts skip a beat.”

After a moment, Jack asked, “Plural?”

Bunny tapped his chest. “One main heart, just like Earthlings, and a secondary attached to the base of each lung. Added blood flow. More oxygen. Useful, for shifting. And other things.”

“I never noticed any difference in your heartbeat,” Jack admitted.

“Shouldn’t, unless I’m frightened; they usually beat in tandem, or so slightly offset it’s hard to notice without my ears.” Bunny shrugged, and glanced again at his list with a pained expression. Then glanced at Jack. Then the list.

He set the list down and turned to Jack, arms open in invitation.

“Sure you’ve got time?” Jack teased even as he accepted the hug. Oh, tight muscles were _tight_. “Alright. How about I rub some of those kinks out of your neck?”

“Yes please.” Bunny didn’t even hesitate and dropped down on his rump.

Jack got immediately distracted by the tail. It was wiggling. Waggling? Wagging? Did rabbit tails wag...gle?

“Bunny?” he asked, and reached down to tweak that all-too-enticing tail. “Movement means what?”

“Like dog, I expect,” he shrugged. Then winced at the motion.

“Okay. You have been far too tense for too long.” Jack started off nice and light, with circular petting motions. “What’s up? It’s practically Easter, you’re on the ball, there’s obviously a lot of eggs…? Hell, Easter can’t come much later than it is this year!”

Jack could all but hear Aster’s frown. “I don’t know, mate. It’s just… something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on it. And I keep checking the lists, just in case, but everything seems in order!”

He began rubbing Bunny’s shoulders a little harder. “Well… Pitch is still locked up. Someone must’ve gotten annoyed, since they put the Terrible Trio on prison duty. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

Bunny hummed contentedly as Jack worked. “I’d… wondered where their reports had gotten off to. Not much to tell about guard duty?”

Well, only if you considered every last prank ever pulled on Pitch Black to be ‘not much’. Currently the man had bright yellow hair, pink skin, and all his clothes had turned into flashing advertisements for bar drinks with ‘classy’ names, like ‘screaming orgasm’. “No,” Jack agreed. “Not much. And I don’t want to hear about the sexcapades.”

Bunny shuddered, and then groaned at the motion. “I should stop moving. _Oooh_ , right there…!”

“I could use this thing for a soft ball,” Jack grumbled. “What’ve you been getting up to while I’ve been out? Sheesh…”

“Nothing. Just… herding eggs through the paint plants?” Bunny mumbled. “And fixing sentinels, and watering gardens, and fertilizing the eggplants that won’t hatch until tomorrow, and-”

“It’s a good thing I know what you mean by fertilizing the plants,” Jack said dryly. “Otherwise I’d be worried. Here, can you tilt your head forward a bit? I want you to stretch this muscle so I can work at it a little more.”

Bunny obliged him, and groaned in relief as Jack worked. They continued in this vein for most of an hour, Jack kneeding Bunny’s muscles, and Aster making appreciative sounds. That may or may not have been going straight to Jack’s groin.

So sue him. He had a teenager’s libido.

“Hey,” he breathed, as he worked his way down Bunny’s spine, and back up. “Question for you.”

“...mmmm? Whazzat?” Aster mumbled thickly after a minute’s silence.

“Far enough ahead for a little nookie?”

Bunny shrugged Jack’s hands off him and rolled his shoulders experimentally. Then his neck.

“Mmm, yeah, that’s wonderful love.” He stood up and spun around, snatching Jack up into a bridal carry. “Nookie sounds great. Let’s go.”

Jack hummed, and reached into his sweater pocket. He pulled out a pair of green-lensed, gold-rimmed glasses. “Don’t forget these,” he said, and put them on Bunny’s nose.

Aster simply purred and chinned Jack’s hair.

Good times.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Monday, 21 April 2014 -- Warren, “Perfect day for a lie in” (according to Aster)**

Jack roused from sleep and stretched.

_Mmm, warm fur. Best sleeping aid ever._

He shifted around a bit and glanced down the hall. Huh. Daylight was pretty bright. How late _was_ it?

He shifted some more, and made to get up.

Two iron bands wrapped in plush fur wrapped around his torso like a giant squid getting ready to tear apart the latest deep-sea probe come to look for it.

And he was promptly pulled back against an equally-plush chest, that rumbled in an almost-purr.

“N’. ‘Tay. Coo’ s’nice,” Bunny mumbled thickly, accent so thick Jack had to think for half a minute to parse the sleepy sentence.

“Bunny, it’s noon.” He pried at one arm, which was absolutely useless, and he probably could’ve put his effort to better use. Like learning how to play the maracas or something. If he’d had maracas. Which he didn’t. Because he hadn’t brought any to bed.

“E’ter ov’r. Slee’ now.”

“I did sleep. I’m awake now.” Jack wiggled. The arms of doom got tighter. “Oh, c’mon!”

Bunny shifted and poked Jack in the back with his not-morning-anymore-wood. Okay, no, now his tailbone. It was heading _down_.

“Bunny,” Jack said, reaching down and fumbling at his belt. “Let me get my pants off first.”

The moment his pants slipped past his ass, Bunny’s tip entered him. Jack gasped, only partly in surprise.

“What, _seriously_ Bunny?”

“... y’r not sleepy. Sex make y’sleepy.”

Jack pouted, but that didn’t last long as another inch slipped in. He moaned, and gave in.

“ _Fine_.”

“L’v ya.”

  
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
 **Monday, 21 April 2014 -- Somewhere, dawn**

Patience. In the end, it all came down to _patience_. Having the will to set the course in motion, and the strength of mind not to rush. Rush, and too many pieces would fall out of place. Out of order. Slip, and fall, and be a waste of time and energy better used to getting out…

Patience.

With patience, he would be free.

With patience, he would enjoy the world and all its… _delights_.

More importantly, with patience, he would finally be able to sate the hunger forever gnawing at his spine.

The screams would be _delicious_.

All he needed was a little patience… and he would pave the way for the Others.

To the victor (to him, _to him_ , _**to him**_ ) would go... the World.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "The end of Jack wearing dresses to company parties has come, and it has died a glorious death. Rising from the flames is a new rule: Bunny must now forever and ever after wear his old uniform to all such company parties, because _damn_."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!"
> 
> And, in case anyone's curious, we used Frostedpaws' [recent picture of Bunny](http://frostedpaws.tumblr.com/post/94744377213/book-bunnymund-in-copics-filter-because-it-looks) for reference. Because it's awesome.


	40. Chapter 40

**Thursday, 10 July 2014 -- Warren, 12:04 pm local time**

Aster hummed tunelessly as he chopped romaine for the salad. Jack would be back soon from his work-related errands in Asia, and he wanted to make sure there was food on the table when that happened.

The last few months had been quiet. Almost too quiet, if he didn’t know any better. Jack had said things sometimes died down right after Easter, when it came to his work, and attributed that to the holiday being over - nothing for the monster and demons and what-have-you to interfere with.

He dumped the romaine into the largest bowl on the counter, and began chopping up the other vegetables, tossing small handfuls in with the romaine and mixing them together as he worked. Really, Jack had been wonderful the last few months, helping him recover from Easter, and getting the Warren cleaned up and ready for next year in record time. Why, he’d even had _free time_ this year to actually go exploring topside! So much had changed since his last world tour, back in, oh… what was it… 1890? Or something like that.

His ears twitched towards the living room when the front door opened.

“Jack?” he called, throwing the last ingredients into the salad.

“Don’t touch me, I’m gross!”

Aster glanced behind him and paused. Jack was wet.

Dripping, sopping wet.

Well, at least his floors were hardened dirt. Wouldn’t hurt them none.

“Don’t drip on the furniture,” he commented dryly. “There’re some towels in the bath, freshly laundered this morning. Might even still be warm.”

“I love you, but - just.” Jack raked a hand back through his hair, and grimaced. “It won’t even ice over. Why won’t it ice over? This is _disgusting_.”

Aster hummed thoughtfully. “Strange. Perhaps there’s too much water?” He wandered down the hall and retrieved a few towels, tossing them to Jack as he returned.

“Never been a problem before,” he muttered, and started scrubbing at his hair. “Should I even bother changing into dry clothes, or just let it all hang out?”

“Wouldn’t mind seeing you starkers,” Aster said, and leered. “Always a pleasure.”

“That answers that question.” Jack dropped the towel long enough to peel off his soaked clothing, then picked up the towel again and started wiping down his arms and chest. “Euck. How do people stand that? I know the kids told me it’d be wet, but that’s just crazy.”

It took Aster a moment to suppress the appreciative purr over Jack’s wet nudity, and a moment longer to register what he’d said. “The kids told you… what, exactly?”

“Huh? Oh, I stopped by to see them while on my way to check in with one of our outposts. They said the monsoon had gotten on the news. I’m surprised it’s only been reported on a little, but I think China’s trying to keep the mudslides quiet. Whole bunch of villages are underwater, though the people are mostly okay. Kinda wet and without any of their stuff, but evacuations went well.”

Aster cocked his head. “That’s good. Monsoon’s are usually very wet though, so I don’t know why it’s so surprising. Or newsworthy, unless it’s caused some disaster or another for them to report on.”

“I think it was the volume of water,” Jack said. “It’s been going on a few months. And the usual suspects are screaming global warming, like always. What’s for lunch?”

“I made a salad. Your favorite mix so far, too. Figured you could use it after all the errands.” Aster padded over to the counter and picked up the salad bowl, two smaller ones, and some silverware. “Have a seat when you’re ready, and dig in.”

A bell dinged in Jack’s office, loud enough to get their attention, quiet enough Aster let it stay. “I’d better check whatever’s come in,” Jack said, and draped the towel over his shoulders. “Gimme a minute, it’s probably nothing.”

He nodded and dished up the bowls, sliding Jack’s food over to his side of the table, and laid out the silverware. He settled down at his bowl and took one bite before Jack returned, frowning at a piece of paper.

“We’ll have to eat fast. Mother Nature’s called a meeting for all the high ups in twenty minutes.”

“Wh’t ‘bout?” Aster mumbled around a second bite of salad.

“Doesn’t say, but it came on the urgent line. Do I have anything clean to wear, or should I pull out the uniform?” Jack sat down, and forked up a bite of salad. “Also, I’m kidnapping you for your cooking.”

Aster smirked at the compliment. “You’ve already stolen me. Several times, if I recall correctly. Uniform would be… most pleasant.”

“Stolen, not kidnapped. This would involve a bag over the head, mysterious location, torture…” He waggled his eyebrows. “And that means no clothes, huh?”

“Sorry, they’re all wet right now. Soaking. You did a number on them in the last week, with all your errands for WINTER.”

Jack shrugged, and chased a bit of romaine around with his fork. “They’ve got to justify my exorbitant salary somehow.”

“I still don’t understand what you lot actually _spend_ that on…” Aster shook his head dismissively. “No, don’t try to explain it. Again. It still won’t make any more sense than the first dozen times you’ve tried.”

“The internet is for shopping,” Jack muttered.

He rolled his eyes and pointed at the salad bowl. “Seconds? Or save for later?”

“We’d better save it. Getting into the uniform will take a little longer than normal, I think my skin’s still damp.” Jack rubbed at his thigh, presumably, under the table. “How do you people stand it? Is this what _humidity_ is like? I don’t like it.”

Aster chuckled and waved Jack off to change, cleaning up their lunch and putting things away. He left the dishes to soak.

He hated washing them anyway, and Jack usually did it if he left it long enough. Aster didn’t even feel guilty about that; Jack had broken more than enough of them to warrant actual replacements, so he only considered it his due.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 10 July 2014 -- Fortress, Antarctica, 1:23 pm local time**

“You didn’t have to come,” Jack said over his shoulder. Aster grunted in reply, which he really should’ve figured on. Of course Aster was going to go. What applied to Jack applied to him, and vice versa.

Really, it was a surprise Odin hadn’t offered to make Aster part of WINTER, then assigned him to guarding Jack even as Jack guarded him. Probably for the best, all things considered; Aster would hate taking orders from anyone but Jack.

Especially if those orders were in the bedroom.

 _No, not right now. Bad Jack!_ he chastised himself mentally, smacking the side of his head with the palm of one hand, and earning an odd look from Bunny.

“Sorry. Mind went places it shouldn’t. At least, not right now.” Jack shrugged, cheeks tinting slightly in mild embarrassment. “Later, though….”

Aster smirked. “I know that look. You want to top.” He poked Jack in the forehead. “I might be inclined to let you, if you’re good today. No pranks!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, tone just this side of not-whining enough to avoid Bunny making fun of him - hopefully - and turned around so that he was walking backwards. “What if I promise to be very, _very_ thorough?”

“... who do you want to prank?” Aster sighed in resignation.

“If the opening is there, Loki. _Maybe_ Quetza, but I’d be nice about it.”

Aster stared at Jack for several seconds.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Those two don’t count. In fact,” Aster said, pausing to look up and down the corridor. No one else was within earshot, but he lowered his voice anyway. “Want some help?”

Jack reached over and grabbed Aster’s bandolier, tugging him closer. “Oh baby, talk dirty to me.”

He pecked Jack on the nose. “Love you too. Now, let’s get this meeting over with.” And then he gestured at the open door, grinning lopsidedly at Jack. “Ladies first.”

“Hey now, hey, now…” Jack grinned back. “I’m not going to be the eventual mom here.”

“You wear dresses,” Aster deadpanned, and quirked one eyebrow in challenge.

“... Touché.” He sauntered through, arms crossed and staff dangling from the tips of his fingers.

He resolutely ignored the snickering rabbit following in his wake.

The usual suspects were in place around the table; Odin at one end, Mother Nature at the other. Anika sat to Mother Nature’s left - or maybe it was right? Jack was looking at the back of Odin’s head so… whatever, didn’t matter. Kern, Quetza, Weyland, and some poor sucker with a pad of papers and a pen, took up space along the table sides.

Kern waved at Jack and pointed at two seats next to him.

Quetza grumbled something to the effect of, “What’s the rabbit doing here?”

Kern elbowed him in the ribs and shushed him. Good friend, that deer.

“Agent Frostbite. Bunnymund. Good, you are already aware of the problem,” Mother Nature said, matter-of-factly. “Would you care to take over the briefing?”

Jack froze halfway through sitting down. “Uh. No? Because I don’t know?”

“It is only reasonable.”

“But I don’t know. What you’re talking about.”

Mother Nature frowned at him, and then stated flatly, “You are in uniform.”

“I didn’t do any laundry.”

She stared at him for an uncomfortably long time, and then sighed. “Very well. Allow me to explain the situation.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder - which was impressive, with how long it was - and continued. “As you can see on the map behind me, we have a problem over Asia. The monsoon is… beyond my control.” She grimaced, as if the admission pained her. “Not that I’ve not spent the last two months idly. It simply refuses to listen.”

Jack raised one hand. “The one that’s been flooding everywhere?”

She eyed him dubiously. “So you _have_ been over there recently.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize there was a problem!” Jack looked over at Aster. “Hey, think this is why the water didn’t freeze?”

Bunny nodded thoughtfully.

Mother Nature frowned severely. “Wouldn’t… _freeze_? Explain.”

“So I maybe flew through the monsoon to do a milk run. When I got home, I tried freezing the water ‘cause I was dripping everywhere. It didn’t.” He shrugged. “Would that be important?”

Another Mother Nature appeared at his side, startling him, and poked at his hair. She hummed in unison with the one at the head of the table. “Strange. Your hair is still wet. I can feel the magic from here.”

“Here with your hands in my hair, or here at the head of the table?” Jack did his best to twist and pull away. He met with limited success, only because he wasn’t about to crawl under the table.

She’d probably just follow him.

Another Mother Nature appeared at his other side and held him still as the first - second - whatever! - one examined the water still on his head. They all hummed in unison, but the - second one? - muttered, “Most troubling.”

“Yes, I know, split ends, I need more conditioner. Stop feeling up my head!”

The second one snapped a single hair off his scalp and the two around him vanished. The hair mysteriously appeared in the original’s hand, which she began examining even as it dripped onto her hands.

Jack rubbed at his head, and leaned sideways until he bumped up against Bunny’s shoulder. “Pet me, I need comfort.”

Aster dutifully began petting Jack’s hair. Kern elbowed Quetza when the snake started to snicker. Odin cleared his throat, but otherwise ignored them. The stenographer was eying them oddly, though. Jack glared; he yelped and went back to studying his writing.

Mother Nature looked up from her examination, and smiled. It was not a nice smile. “Do you require space for your pre-fornication rituals?”

Jack gaped and spluttered; Aster only sighed, but, thankfully, Odin cut in before Jack could formulate any words. Or not thankfully, Jack wasn’t sure. He had some choice comebacks.

“Gonna share with the class about the fucking monsoon?” Odin asked, the eyebrow over his eyepatch halfway to his hairline.

She hummed distractedly, intently curious about the petting ritual going on before her - thankfully, Aster hadn’t stopped, but still - before twitching slightly, and turning her gaze to Odin’s. “Right.” She demurely cleared her throat. “How detailed would you like the report?”

Odin stabbed one finger in her direction. Mother Nature bowed her head.

“I cannot determine who is the source of the magic. However, the impressions feel like one of the old gods.”

Jack sat up straight. “You mean some overgrown fish is trying to drown Asia?”

“Perchance.” She eyed the hair in her hand and flicked it with a finger. All the remaining water in Jack’s hair froze abruptly, spiking his hair every which way; Aster yelped at the sudden cold and withdrew his paw. “Ah. There we go. Your magic should work against the monsoon rains now.”

“Alright, what’d you do?” Jack reached up and felt very carefully at the new hairdo. “And how do you undo it?”

The next five minutes passed in stunned silence as Jack, and the rest of the table, tried to keep up with the complicated magical theory she rattled off. Only Odin seemed to understand what she was saying, nodding along reasonably as she explained.

Right. No help there.

He stuck two fingers between his teeth, and whistled. “Hey! For those of us with the equivalent to a GED -” Okay, better, but only because he’d gotten curious, and only in specific subjects, “- translation please!”

“The fucking old god’s using his magic and the water to ensure the water cycle stops at rain.” Odin leaned back in his chair, looking smug. “She stripped the magic from the stuff on you, and all the energy you put into icing it and failing hit at once.”

“Ah.” Well, that explained the odd feeling of ice crystals down below. “Thanks.”

Odin rolled his eye.

“I suggest you find the culprit, and stop them.” Mother nature gestured at the map. “One third of the world’s population is currently in this region, and most of them are already being affected. Certainly, the amount of food being damaged or destroyed is sure to cause a famine at this rate.”

Bunny stood up fast, and his chair clattered against the floor. “Famine?” he asked, not like he had missed the word, but like he couldn’t believe he was hearing it. “Did you just say ‘famine?’”

Mother Nature eyed him oddly. “Yes. I did. This is a problem? Should I use a different word?”

“Gimme a second, I just…” He reached up and rubbed at his forehead. “First there was the plague in… where was it? Why can’t I remember where it was?”

Jack frowned. Aster’s behavior was worrying. “Poland. Or thereabouts. Giltine, the Lithuanian goddess. Remember?”

“I remember now you’ve reminded me, but… anyways. After that was Apedemak. War. Plague. War. Now you’re talking about a famine.” He stopped and surveyed the table. “Remind anyone of anything?”

Jack blanched, as did everyone else at the table. “You can’t mean…?”

“Jack…” Aster turned to him and eyed him pleadingly. “How many eggs have I handpainted the last few years?”

“Um. I don’t know, you’ve got a list, you checked it off…” Now it was Jack’s turn to rub at his forehead, trying to remember.

Kern spoke up. “Less this year than last, and less than the years before that. I could get actual numbers, if you want, but… it wasn’t many.”

Aster started swearing in what had to be Pookan, because nothing else was that musical. Or, at the moment, that angry. After a few minutes, he calmed down enough to switch back to English.

“We have a problem,” he stated flatly.

Jack rolled his eyes. “I think we’ve all figured that out, Cottontail. Next up is Death, isn’t it?”

Aster turned to Mother Nature, ignoring Jack. “Examine me,” he demanded.

Mother Nature cocked her head. “Pardon?”

Bunny growled. “My magic. Health. _Examine me._ I wouldn’t forget something so important without something being wrong with me!”

Rather than responding, two more Mother Nature’s appeared next to him, one holding him still while the other made complicated gestures at him, and then started feeling him up. The one holding him started running her hands up and down the sides and back of his body. If Jack hadn’t known any better, the scene before him would have seemed like the beginning of a porno flick, but it was over before he could form words. The secondary Mother Nature’s disappeared, and the primary frowned severely.

“You’re infected,” she stated flatly. “Prokaryotic microorganism. Metaphysically enhanced. _Neisseria meningitidis mnemosyne._ ”

Odin sat up straight at that.

Jack raised his hand, and then grabbed Bunny by the elbow and tugged. “Uh, translation for those of us who didn’t get that?”

Odin cleared his throat. “Allow me. You’ve heard of meningitis, Jack?”

“Uh… some sort of inflammation in the brain, right?”

“Immediate medical attention, and yes. An inflammation - a _serious_ inflammation - of the protective membranes over the brain and spinal cord.” Odin’s lip twitched. “Fatal if not treated, as it’s bacterial.” He turned to look at Mother Nature. “But that strain went extinct several dozen millennia before _I_ was born.”

Mother Nature nodded seriously, and turned to whisper to Anika for a moment, who dashed from the room, calling for medics. She turned back to the rest of them. “This is very serious. Bunnymund, you will need immediate medical attention; the infection is very advanced. I expect you‘ve been infected for at least… two years, at this rate, and have only survived this long because of the strength of your magic. To most of WINTER, this would have been fatal within six months.”

Jack twitched, and stood up. “Who’d be able to do this?” he asked, even as he pressed up against Aster’s side as close as he could go. “And how do I destroy them?”

Aster wobbled on his feet, one paw slapping against his head as he groaned in pain, only staying upright because Jack was plastered to his side. Mother Nature frowned. “It knows you are aware of it’s presence. It’s attacking. We need to get you to the Infirmary _now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Shall we open a contest on who Famine is? Or who Death will be? And yes, we have revealed part of the massive plot - every last arc worked together, muwahahahaha! Foreshadowing! (Anyone up to re-reading and finding all the foreshadowing?) Also, you may want to look at the tag update...."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "*cackles evilly* And yes, we remember the last contest, and what's what. Kaya's got next week off, so we should have plenty of time to actually finally fill the entries. XD"
> 
> *listens to Requiem by Verdi*


	41. Chapter 41

**Thursday, 10 July 2014 -- Infirmary, Fortress, Antarctica, 1:41 pm local time**

A hunter learnt to be patient; a warrior, to take his time. A lover, never. Jack Frost, Regent of WINTER, Guardian of Joy-in-Children - in every sense of the phrase - was a warrior before he was a hunter - and a lover before he was a warrior.

Kern watched his Regent pace back and forth, the dark blue and bright silver of his uniform stark against the pale, blue-tinted ice of the hallway walls. Jack had long since gone past coherency, his rant having transformed to quiet muttering, which was growing more and more borderline desperate by the moment. He kept his ears tilted away, to give Jack what privacy he could, without abandoning him altogether.

“They’ll be out soon,” he offered, after yet another frantic, frenzied look at the infirmary doors. The modern vocabulary was faster, messier than the countless other dialects he knew. But so much more could be conveyed with it as well, concepts that the ancient peoples hadn’t been capable of conceiving.

Jack stopped his frenetic pacing, and stared at him. “But -”

“Jack. It has only been ten minutes.” Ten emotionally wrought minutes, to be true, but such a short period of time all the same. What was it like, to feel each minute _as_ a minute, instead of as a second or less?

He no longer remembered.

Kern withheld a sigh. He was getting old. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

“Ten minutes ago, Mother Nature said he was _dying_. Nine minutes ago, he started complaining, _deliriously_ , about a sudden, severe headache. Eight minutes ago, bright light and loud noises hurt him. Then it was a sudden high fever and chills. Then he started talking to someone I _know_ he told me is long dead.” Jack swallowed thickly. “Then he had a seizure. _How can I remain calm while they’re in there doing Polaris-knows-what to him?_ ”

Jack shouted that last part. Kern suppressed a wince at the volume.

“Do you trust our medics?” he asked, pitching his voice low and speaking slower than normal, to try and subtly sooth his Regent.

Jack slumped against the wall and pouted, muttering morosely, after a moment’s hesitation, “Yes.”

“Then you’ve got to give them _time_ ,” Kern pointed out. Movement on his bad side caught his attention, but it came with a whiff of fox-musk and the light touch of gentle claws on his arm. “Rai. It might not be the best time.”

Raijin stood up on the tips of his toes to place his muzzle at Kern’s ear. “It’s about the famine entity,” he whispered, glancing warily at Jack.

Kern wrapped one arm around Raijin’s waist, and half-turned to bring the Kitsune further out of Jack’s view. “Well, we might need a target for our beloved Regent’s rage,” he murmured back, in Raijin’s preferred Japanese. “Tell me, dearest.”

Rai blushed faintly, like he always did when Kern called him his pet name in public, visible despite the fur to Kern’s eyes. “Ssssh!” He hushed, before clearing his throat. “The entity has pushed the monsoon further than it’s ever gone before, as of about ten minutes ago. It’s now affecting all of the region from the South China Sea, through the Sea of Japan, and up into _Kamchatka_. And it’s starting to ‘leak’ out into the Pacific Ocean proper, to the east, towards the Americas.”

“Where is all the water _coming_ from?” Kern wondered. Then he dismissed it; the water cycle wasn’t his business.

Raijin shrugged. “No one can figure out how the entity is doing it! No known god, demon, spirit, or monster has that kind of power!”

“Several at once,” Kern suggested, and shook his head. His horns weighed the motion down, in a way that had grown familiar over the recent decades. Ah, but first Jack, then Raijin and Izanami, helped to keep him young.

It didn’t make the antlers weigh any less, though.

“Alas, I do not believe we can manage to get Jack’s attention away from Bunnymund.” He looked over at his Regent, still pacing with the energy of the distraught, terrified lover. “Until we know how Bunnymund fares… he will not leave. And I don’t want to think about what would happen if Odin tried to order him to.”

Raijin winced at the very idea. Motion out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He glanced up in time to see Izanami take one look at Jack, spin around, and walk the other way. Looked like she was going to take the long way around.

_Coward_ , he thought fondly.

Not that he blamed her.

And then he took note of the frost curling from Jack’s every footfall, and the way it spread in jagged spikes across the floor and up the walls.

Cowardice was clearly underrated.

“He appears angry,” a deep voice said from his bad side, opposite where he’d shifted Rai, though he’d kept the kitsune held close. It was a nice sensation, the cuddling, so sue him.

Kern twitched slightly. Damn it. He really needed to figure out how to compensate for that.

He turned to look at the man - ah. “General? What are you doing here?” he whispered, still trying to avoid Jack’s notice.

Mstislav got the hint, and lowered his voice. It still rung louder than Kern’s, but the man had always had trouble with volume control. “Anika called Ombric and I in. We timed our arrival to five minutes ago; it’s the best timing I’ve seen the old coot pull off in nearly a century. He must really care about Bunnymund.”

“They are old friends,” Kern murmured, his mind turning to this new path. “Does he know what we need to cure him? Bunnymund?”

“He’s… looking into it. With Seraphina. So far, he’s having to sift through the possible futures and she’s helping him choose the more likely ones. Something about paths dividing and this being very strange. And there’s some sort of… for lack of a better word, ‘resistance’ to his efforts. Most strange.”

Kern sighed through his nose, and nodded. “Bunnymund _must_ live,” he said, and looked over at Jack again. “He is Life itself on this planet.”

General Winter nodded seriously, glanced, well, not _warily_ at Jack, but not _not_ -warily either. “I will go speak with the medics and see what the current situation is. Jack has been banished from the room, I presume?”

“They did not feel he would be able to adequately assist,” Kern said. His voice was dry enough that they both should have crumbled away to bone-dry sand.

Mstislav chuckled and nodded. He only managed a half-dozen steps away from Kern before Jack noticed him, however. And promptly latched onto his arm. And began babbling.

“He is aware, Jack,” Kern said, reaching over to help Mstislav pry himself free. “Ombric is searching through the futures as we speak.”

Jack subsided. A bit. He still clung to the General’s arm. “Could you get _someone_ to come out and tell me what’s going on? They banned me from the room! Even warded it against me!”

Jack’s pouts were nigh-legendary for how cross they could look when he wanted them to, Kern knew. This was quite the pout today, it seemed.

Mstislav cleared his throat, and nodded. “I will inquire,” he said, and tugged at his tunic hem to straighten it. “Wait here, yes?”

Jack bobbed his head so fast, Kern was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. It still took him a moment to pry his hands off the General’s forearm - which had a layer of ice on the coat sleeve.

Jack glanced down and blushed faintly. “Oops. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Jack,” Kern said, and pulled him to the side. “You can’t help it when you get emotional. And if you weren’t emotional right now, I’d have to wonder if you’d been infected too!”

For a moment, he wondered - but, no, there was nothing to show Jack was having the same troubles as Bunnymund.

Jack nodded slowly, and returned to pacing the moment the door shut, though with much less anger. Anxiety seemed to color his behavior now, apparent in the way he glanced at the door every other second, and in how he kept adjusting the uniform, as if it wasn’t already snug. Fidgeting, in a word, though no one fidgeted like Jack Frost did. Or as readily.

A moment later - well, one minute and thirty-five seconds later, but close enough - the door opened again and Mstislav escorted one of the healers out. Not the chief healer, but Gretchen, who had experience, power, and an absolute distaste for authority. Not that she didn’t abuse what authority she already had, as one of the most abrasive healers WINTER boasted, but… she didn’t want any more than that, thankfully, or WINTER would never be the same.

“Stop wearing a hole into the floor,” she snapped at Jack.

Jack twitched and paused in his pacing, before taking a few more steps, turning around and crossing his arms to glare at her. “Miiike, why’d you pick _her_?”

“Because I was the only one taking a breather. Hands-on healing is difficult work, and I wasn’t about to interrupt any of the others just because you don’t like me.” Gretchen sniffed, and lifted her nose a bit into the air. “It’s only your Charge we’re healing, after all.”

Jack muttered, “I don’t like you because you make me do… _things_.”

“You may care nothing for your health, but I assure you, the rest of us do not. So.” She turned and eyeballed Kern. “You want to know about Bunnymund, even though it’s only been fifteen minutes. Impatient, aren’t you?”

“Well, if Jack knew more about Bunnymund’s condition,” Kern reasoned. “He’d be more liable to leave you alone to heal him. Or whatever it is you’re doing in there.”

Kern eyed her dubiously; he was at the right angle to have seen the equipment - and Jack was not, thankfully - they’d carted out and had scattered around Bunnymund’s bedside when the doors had been briefly open. Most troubling, that.

Gretchen glowered at him, and then inclined her head. “He’s had one seizure, though it hasn’t repeated. The sepsis is worrying, but not quite so much as the Petechial Rash under his fur.”

“ _Under_? How’d you-” Jack started, but Gretchen cut him off.

“Shaving,” she deadpanned. Jack twitched. “We’ve packed ice around him to combat the fever - Pooka appear to be like earth rabbits that way, a high fever is likely deadly to him, though I imagine it’d need to be higher for him than for an actual rabbit. And he seems to be suffering from a hemorrhage in his adrenaline glands, except they’re not _exactly_ adrenaline glands so it’s not doing what we’re expecting.”

Jack frowned and opened his mouth, but Gretchen, true to form, bowled right over him. “Additionally - and it would have been good to know this _before_ having to care for him in such a state - his _three_ hearts are beating at a rate that should only be attained during a marathon, and they’re out-of-sync. Tell me, Regent, is it normal for them to be out-of-sync?”

“N-no. Usually - I couldn’t tell he had three - he had to tell me. They were… one beat.” Jack swallowed, hard. “Can I see him? Please?” he asked, voice gone all little-boy quiet.

Kern… had never had children, no, but that voice _called_ to him, deep inside. He took two large steps forward without thinking about it, reaching for Jack.

Gretchen swatted his hands and glared at him. “Wait,” she cautioned, and turned her attention back to Jack. “I’m not going to be the one to tell the chief healer that you want to get in the way of the equipment just to _see him_ , until we having everything settled.” There was a commotion in the room behind her, and she shifted the door open to listen.

“ _\- Disseminated intravascular coagulation! We need-_ ”

She turned around quickly. “I need to go back inside.”

“Wait!” Jack called, reaching for her and catching her arm. Her glare did nothing, for once. “What’s that _mean_?”

She paused for a long few seconds, and then sighed. “It means that his blood is clotting excessively, and we need to administer anti-coagulation agents.” Her expression softened, if only slightly. And ‘slightly’, Kern mused, meant that ‘her eyebrows were a smidge less severe’. “Regent, if you give us another half-hour, presuming no new complications, _then_ you can see him.”

Jack nodded, and stepped back. Kern rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be waiting,” he assured her. “Half an hour. You remember that.”

“ _If_ there are no more complications,” she replied sharply, nodded, and returned inside.

“Guess there’s nothing else to do but wait,” Raijin whispered in Kern’s ear.

Kern nodded seriously, and then pulled Jack into a hug on his other side. Raijin curled around and joined in. Izanami joined the group hug a moment later - when’d she arrive? - and Jack visibly calmed.

At least there was that.

They settled in to wait.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


He looked so _small_ , there in the hospital bed.

Jack glanced to the left of the bed, at the trio of heart monitors, each one tracking a separate heartbeat. They were still going quite fast, and were _very_ out-of-sync. Another machine seemed to be hooked into his arm, and - was it pulling his _blood_ out? Oh, it was putting it back in too… dialysis maybe? Were his kidneys not working correctly? Or did that have to do with the sepsis?

Jack shook his head. He didn’t really understand medical matters, but he knew enough from visiting sick children in hospital and overhearing doctors talking to know a bad situation when he was looking at it.

On the other side of the bed was a respirator, which was hooked up to Bunny’s muzzle - apparently they had muzzle-shaped ones in WINTER, which was probably because of all the kitsune - and seemed to be supplying him with pure oxygen, if the tanks were anything to go by.

He was breathing awfully fast. And the shaved areas didn’t help. The red splotches on his skin that were visible in the shaved areas - thankfully just where they’d needed to hook up equipment - must be that rash thing Gretchen the Terrible had spoken of.

“Aster,” he whispered, and moved to the side of the bed. He eased his fingers under Bunny’s hand, limp and unresponsive and just a little cool to the touch, even for him. “Aster…”

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he _could_ say.

Jack Frost was a Regent of WINTER, a Guardian of Children, one of the strongest and most gifted when it came to ice and snow.

None of it was any help. His skill, his strength, his… his joy… his magic… nothing. It was all _worthless_ , because it couldn’t help Aster.

He bowed his head. “Please don’t leave me...”

The monitors beeped. Bunny breathed, but no answer was forthcoming. Not that Jack had expected one. He’d wished for it, but his hope was a fickle thing right now.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Bunny’s, as best he could around the breathing apparatus. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered again, and stayed there, almost cuddling, for the remainder of his allotted time.

And if Gretchen allowed him to stay overlong, well, he wasn’t to know or notice.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


If someone had told him just how much time it took to examine, well, _time_ , he’d have buggered off to some other place for a spell and _then_ come by the scrying room for information.

Oh well. Live and learn.

He glanced up from Raijin’s prone form - which was quite distracting, thank you very much, as he was kicking his bare feet idly in the air and displaying his quite excellent calf muscles to all and sundry, and Kern _really_ wished heels hadn’t gone out of style for men - towards where Ombric and an incarnation of Mother Nature - he wasn’t sure how to tell the ‘real’ one from the others - were studying the wisps and whorls of golden sand.

Or something like that; it looked quite a lot like Sanderson’s Dreamsand, but he’d been assured it was quite different. ‘Sands of Time’ or somesuch. Artefact this, and magical that. Blah blah.

Not his job or area of expertise. If it worked, it worked.

He and his Regent were well paired in that way; they did not concern theirselves overmuch with _why_ so much as _how_.

Kern’s eyes had just wandered back to Raijin’s feet and calves - and, honestly, if the kit didn’t stop that soon, he’d be liable to be hauled off for some much-needed ‘relief’ - when Ombric started muttering. His head snapped back up, ears trained to catch every word.

“-makes no sense, Sera,” he grumbled sourly. “Is it a bowl? Chalice? Cup? Too many paths diverged in a yellow wood-”

Not that they made all that much sense.

“Is there a reason you are dragging Robert Frost through the mud with your ramblings?” Kern asked, even though he had avowed himself to be a silent spectator.

Ombric’s muttering continued unabated. “Frost? Why yes, we’re seeing Frost in these whorls of Timesand. Sand. Right. Maybe this stream…?”

Mother Nature looked at Kern, and sighed. “At this rate, we will have to go looking for the Holy Grail,” she complained mildly. “The signs make no sense. And we haven’t the time to go haring off to all corners of the world.”

“Can you explain his,” Kern hooked a thumb at Ombric, and continued, “Mutterings? All I caught was some sort of receptacle and woods, though I think he was just waxing poetic.”

“A possible hint to a cure,” she said, looking back at the glowing sands. At least she wasn’t providing overly-analytical observations on his interest in Raijin, at the moment. If anything would make him celibate, that would be it. “Some form of vessel in the form of an old fashioned cup… possibly a mazer? But from the implications, it is a cup of healing-”

Kern’s spine straightened sharply - painfully - and he gasped, “ _Cwpan Nanteos._ ”

Raijin sat up and asked, “What’s that mean?”

“The Nanteos Cup?” Mother Nature considered it a moment. “Perhaps. But it has been lost for several centuries, has it not? The real one, that is.”

He waved her off. “I have a hunch as to it’s location.” The Closet of Doom, yes, but if _anyone_ had the Cup squirreled away, it’d be Bunnymund. “I haven’t seen it, per se, but I felt something quite like it recently.”

Raijin piped up. “But we’ve catalogued several _dozen_ magical chalices and cups and things in the Closet thus far - it’s amazing how much stuff we’re finding with all the baby agent punishments - so how do you propose we figure it out?”

Ah, Raijin. Always reading the nuances of Kern’s speech and body language; it’s what made him such a valuable ally, and an excellent lover.

“Details. I’ve touched the Cup before,” he said, addressing Raijin’s question first. “So I just have to go through whatever it is the baby agents have found in the Closet.” He turned back to Mother Nature. “Is there anything else? I know the Cup only works properly with enchanted water and, last time I checked, there isn’t a convenient source of magical water just lying around-”

He turned, wide-eyed, to Raijin, who wore a similar expression, and they gasped in unison, “The Fountain!”

Mother Nature tapped her fingers against the table, masterfully ignoring Ombric’s continued muttering. “ _What_ fountain?”

Raijin replied before he could. “The one at the Pooka Temple in Africa!”

“ _What_ temple?”

Kern hastily explained about the temple they’d found deep in the Congo last year, and about the Fountain that seemed unblemished by the decay of the rest of the grounds, and still worked, besides.

“An intriguing supposition. Let me put it to the expert,” she said, and rolled her eyes. “Ombric. _Ombric_.”

The old man spluttered, “What _is_ it, woman? Can’t you see I’m - oh? You’re going to tell me something useful. What is it? Oh, nevermind. I’ll look for information on the Cup and the Fountain. Give me a few minutes.”

Kern was quite entertained by the sight of Mother Nature managing to look both vaguely amused and put out. Mostly put out.

They waited for several minutes - Kern’s eyes had wandered back to Raijin’s calves and bobbing feet, since the kit had returned to lying on his stomach and watching the sand with a mesmerized expression - when they were all startled - well, except for Mother Nature, who never seemed startled, only mildly put upon - when Ombric shouted, “Eureka!”

He turned to Mother Nature and started babbling at a speed that Kern couldn’t match, so he waited for her to explain once they were done conversing. He was not disappointed.

“To put it bluntly, the Cup and the Fountain are the most promising potentials he can see. It would be wise to put all effort into locating first the Cup, then obtaining water from the Fountain, and bringing it back for Bunnymund to drink. Other options are not nearly so encouraging.”

Kern nodded sharply, once, and turned to Raijin, but he was already on his feet and running for the door - a pity, because he couldn’t admire the calves quite as well - so he shrugged, and followed, calling for Izanami to stay with Jack until he was ready to leave, and to then bring him to the Warren.

Time to search the Closet of Doom.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 10 July 2014 -- Closet of Doom, Warren, 4:04 pm local time**

Raijin poked his head out after a half-hour of searching. “There’s too much stuff,” he stated flatly.

Kern quirked an eyebrow from his position at the latest trunk Raijin had tossed him to inspect. “It’s a _closet_. How much ‘stuff’ could there be?”

“... it’s bigger on the inside,” the kitsune deadpanned before ducking back inside.

“What?”

“You heard me!” Raijin called, throwing another trunk out the door and into the hall.

Kern raised his eyebrows, and ducked carefully through the doorway. And then stopped, contemplating madness and the collecting of toenail clippings. “I’m fairly certain this violates every law of physics currently known, and quite a few only suspected to exist,” he said, looking around. There was shelf after shelf after pile after _heap_. If it could be carved, it was on a shelf. If it could be bedecked with jewels, it was likely in one of the many piles. If it could be bespelled, it was _here_.

“So this is what it looks like when someone with hoarding tendencies is given several billion years to go to town with it,” he said, leaning forward to study a stack of daggers. The one on top was likely Arthur’s ‘Little White Dagger’, and was nearly long enough to qualify as a short sword. “Shouldn’t these be in the armory?”

Raijin shouted, from what looked like fifty yards away; Kern tried to ignore the sense that it was further. “The weapons are to be moved later! We’ve been having the baby agents move them to the one side, so we can deal with them after the cataloguing is complete!”

“Rai, dearest, there are several waraxes poised to fall on whoever is unfortunate enough to stand beneath them.” He moved his study to said axes, and hummed. “Would Bunnymund mind if I borrowed one, you think?”

“We were thinking of having Loki move those!” Raijin considered his suggestion for a few seconds. “I think whatever you decide to borrow should be fine, so long as it gets put back before he wakes.”

“Good decision,” he muttered, and started towards his mate.

First there was there’d been the stack of daggers. Then swords, then waraxes, then halberds, glaives, hammers, forks, all manner of farming tools - why were those mixed in with the weapons? - and then came the _armor_ , of all shapes, sizes, types, and ages. And that was just on the left side of the long, _long_ hallway. Kern studiously ignored the fact that the walls, which were lined floor to ceiling with shelves, had _doors_ every fifty paces or so.

A closet shouldn’t have more closets _inside_.

He paused at the stack of spears, oddly out-of-place in the piles of armor, but conveniently next to the shields. One of them - the spears, at any rate - looked exactly like his first, that he’d made with his hands, a bit of sharp bone, and a long, straight sapling. He smiled reminiscently, and traced the sharp spearpoint.

Which he promptly dropped when he glanced behind the pile, at the lone spear that’d fallen from the bunch when he’d pulled the familiar-looking one out.

No... it couldn’t be… _could it_?

Kern carefully lifted the fallen spear, and examined it thoroughly. It was made from a solid piece of bone, approximately fourteen feet in length, expertly crafted, and fashioned for use in both hand-to-hand combat and throwing; there was an inscription winding along the shaft in ancient, _ancient_ Irish. It was hard to make out in the poorly lit closet-hallway, but that didn’t matter.

What did was the carving of seven spear tips radiating out from a point on the spearhead, which was larger than his _hand_.

Raijin appeared next to him. “What’s that?”

Kern gaped at Raijin, glancing back and forth between the spear and the kitsune.

“It’s… it’s… it’s….”

“It’s what?” Raijin prompted.

Kern blinked, and returned to staring at the spear.

“It’s the _Gáe Bulg_.”

Raijin blinked at him, and then tilted his head. “I do not understand,” he admitted.

Kern twitched. “Ah, right. Japanese, not Celt.” He cleared his throat. “This is the spear of Cuchulainn; it’s name has various translations and spellings, but generally means something along the lines of ‘death spear’. When it’s thrown into the body of an enemy, the spear tip divides nigh-infinitely, spearing barbs throughout the target’s body. Only the thrower can remove it.”

“That does not sound friendly,” Raijin said dryly. He idly glanced over at the pile of spears, and stiffened. “ _Koibito_!”

Kern blinked. “What is it?”

It was his turn to watch Raijin lift a spear out of the pile - obviously of Japanese make, given the styling and lettering on the blade, though it looked odd, but what would he know? - and kept pulling, and pulling, and _pulling_ , until all of the shaft had left the pile.

Kern blinked again. “Um… that’s kinda long for a ‘spear.’”

Raijin cradled the shaft reverently. “Kern, you have no idea what this is, do you?”

Kern shook his head in the negative. Raijin shifted the spear so that it stood tall next to him, which was quite the impressive feat, since Raijin was barely over five feet tall, and that spear looked to be about _four times_ his size.

“How are you even moving that around so easily?” Kern asked, awed.

“It’s the balance. It’s perfect.”

“Nothing’s perfect.”

“This spear’s balance _is_.” Raijin glanced up at the spear tip reverently. “This is the _Tonbogiri_. The Dragonfly Cutter. Legend has it that, after it was crafted, a dragonfly landed on the blade and was immediately cut in half.”

“That sounds as friendly as my _Gáe Bulg_ ,” he teased. “This isn’t finding us the Cup, though.”

Raijin continued staring at the blade reverently, seemingly missing what he’d said. Kern glanced around, and then placed the _Gáe Bulg_ in his spear holster, which he’d left empty, having put his spear and buckler in the appointed place at the front of the house.

“You are taking it with you?” Raijin asked, apparently noticing something other than the _Tonbogiri_.

“Famine,” was all he said.

Raijin hummed, and did _something_ with the spear he was hold and... it _disappeared_.

“What-?”

“‘Hammer space’, as they call it these days in anime.” He shrugged. “Something us kitsune learn fairly young, actually.”

“Useful,” he decided, and started back down the hallway. The hallway in the closet.

His head started to hurt.

Which is why he promptly tripped over a loose scabbard and tumbled through a door that was partially open.

Into a room filled with cups, bowls, and plates of all manner of material make, age, and size. He rolled onto his side and sat up.

“Well, _that_ was fortuitous.”

Raijin giggled from the doorway.

It was rather dark in the room, but as soon as Kern stood and took a couple more steps inside, a sphere set in the ceiling began glowing brightly.

Almost blindingly so, after the gloom of the hallway and dark of the closet’s storage… closet.

Kern cleared his throat. “The Nanteos Cup is a wooden mazer bowl, Rai. Let’s get to looking for it.”

Raijin nodded and they set to work.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 10 July 2014 -- Closet in the Closet of Doom, Warren, 7:11 pm local time**

“None of these bowls are the one we’re looking for,” Kern growled, setting the latest wooden bowl down… gently. Carefully, even. Then he turned and kicked a massively ugly cup, covered in gold and silver and studded with what looked like every oversized gem in existence, against a wall with all his strength.

The metal cracked with a screech and bang, gems flying everywhere in the process.

He cringed. “Oops.” He stepped over to the mangled cup and picked it up. “Wait a second-!”

The metal was twisting away from some other surface _inside_ of it. He carefully gripped on the twisted part and wrenched with one hand. The metal tore further, revealing a pristine wooden _mazer cup_.

“The Nanteos Cup,” he said dumbly.

Raijin appeared at his side. “Huh. It was disguised. Wonder why?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Kern said, and turned the cup over in his hands, discarding the remains of the false covering. It felt… right. Like holding onto gentle sunlight, the wood sanded so smooth that it felt like silk to his fingers. “Only our Regent is able to guess at Bunnymund’s mind, and I do not want to go there myself.” He turned, and traced Raijin’s jaw with one hand. “I much prefer yours.”

Raijin giggled and stepped closer, wrapping his arms loosely around Kern’s waist. “And I, yours. I especially like what it comes up with in bed; you’re _very_ creative, _Koibito_.”

Kern hummed happily and kissed the kitsune, though only chastely; they didn’t have time for a romp, mores the pity. He pulled back after a moment.

“C’mon, love. We have a Cup to deliver, and a Jack to collect, since he seems to not have left Bunnymund’s side. I’m sure we can get him motivated with _this._ ” He gestured with the Cup.

Raijin nodded. “ _Hai, sodesune_.”

Kern gestured at the door. “Shall we then?”

Rai grinned and sauntered out. Kern swatted him on the rump.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“What’s yours is mine,” Kern sing-songed.

Rai spun around and stuck his tongue out.

And then ran out the door laughing.

“So that’s how you want to play it, eh?” Kern shouted as he ran after.

Maybe they had a bit of time for a quickie… Jack wouldn’t mind, surely? It’s not like they could leave immediately _anyway_. The Cup had to be analyzed first, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "-holds out basket- STEP right up folks and drop your hearts in here... Pay NO heed to the pie-making machine right behind me, this is NOT Sweeney Todd and we're just borrowing it for the mincing action..."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "For those that are interested, more information on the Nanteos Cup [can be found here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nanteos_Cup). As for Kern's fixation on Raijin's calves, I'd like to remind everyone that in the 18th century, well-formed calves on men were greatly admired [much like biceps and pecs today]; men even wore high-heeled shoes to show them off better, a practice which died out in the late 18th to early 19th century."


	42. Chapter 42

**Thursday, 10 July 2014 -- Infirmary, Fortress, 11:23 pm local time**

Kern left Raijin and Izanami standing in the hallway outside the Infirmary doors, and quietly crept inside. It was _really_ late, and Jack was nowhere else to be found, so he _had_ to still be in here, which was, one, a miracle that Gretchen hadn’t kicked him out hours ago, and, two, sad.

Jack was, in fact, still at Bunnymund’s bedside, slumped over in a pose that would have had a lesser man crying from the pain, dead asleep. Kern paused, eyebrows raised, reluctantly impressed. Anyone else would likely have woken by now from a stiff neck and shoulders so sore they would feel dislocated.

Jack was snoring faintly. It was kind of adorable, and he hated to intrude, but they had work to do.

“Jack?” He reached over, and brushed Jack’s shoulder. Unsurprisingly, his Regent did not wake. “Jack, wake up. It’s about Bunnymund.”

Jack snorted and woke with a start. “Bunny…?” he mumbled. “Ow, my neck.”

“I’m not surprised. We… may have found a cure.” Kern crouched down, his hocks protesting the entire way. He ignored them; his various body parts were not allowed to rebel.

Jack blinked several times, processing that statement, no doubt; he was always one to wake slowly and get his mind in order. “A… cure?” His eyes widened. “Wait, a cure!”

“Sssssh!” Gretchen hissed from somewhere nearby, though Kern couldn’t quite tell where. “Patients are _sleeping!_ ”

It took a great deal of willpower to not flinch when the Ninja Nurse just _appeared_ out of thin air at his shoulder.

“You are awake? Good. Off with you.” She turned to Kern. “See that he eats! He’s been avoiding food all evening!”

With that, Gretchen clicked her heels, and stalked off, quiet as a mouse.

Kern cleared his throat, and nodded. “We should discuss this outside,” he agreed. “Please?”

Jack turned to look at Bunnymund and reached out, smoothing a hand over his forehead before taking the Pooka’s paw in hand and gently kissing the knuckles.

“I’ll be back soon, and then you’ll get better. You’ll see.”

Kern politely ignored the byplay, standing up with aid from a chair back and much popping and cracking of his knees; he really should have taken the time to stretch after the closet search, at his age. He led the way out of the Infirmary, ducking to avoid hitting the lintel with his horns, as was customary. His two kitsune were waiting, with expressions of determination and excitement.

He could not have chosen better than they.

Once the door closed, Jack spoke, glancing at each of them in turn. “So, what’s the plan?”

Raijin piped up immediately. Always eager to please, that one.

“We found the Cup and determined that the magical water in the Fountain will be the best source for healing Bunny!” the kitsune was practically bouncing on his toes, he was so excited.

Kern suppressed a sigh. Trust Raijin to forget the _important_ details. There was a reason he was still a Shepherd at his age; most kitsune with at least three tails graduated from field duty under a Knight.

Jack’s expression was a delightful mix of joy and confusion. “Uh. Someone want to elaborate on that?

Kern cleared his throat. “Uh, right. So, Ombric figured out that if we take a magical goblet called the ‘Nanteos Cup’ and fill it with the magical water from the Fountain at that Temple we found in Africa, it should be sufficient to heal Bunnymund.”

“We’ve got to look for some random cup now?” Jack asked, joy and confusion switching immediately to dismay. “Great. How long will that take? Do we at least have an _idea_ of where to start looking?”

Raijin waved his hands to get Jack’s attention. “It took about, oh… seven hours? We searched Bunny’s Closet of Doom.” He grinned suddenly. “Did you know it’s _bigger on the inside_?”

“I, uh… what? How much bigger?” He held up one hand. “Never mind, I don’t care. We have the Cup? So we just need the Fountain?”

Raijin whispered, awed, “It’s like the TARDIS….”

Kern cut in. “Pretty much, yeah.” He frowned. “This seems a bit too easy.”

“If the universe doesn’t give me easy with this I’m going to kill it,” Jack said, and now he was dangerously perky. “You, me, we, Fountain, now.”

They all nodded their assent. “We took naps while we waited for the analysis of the Cup, so we’re good to go,” Kern said. “Ready when you are, Boss.”

“Let’s go now!” Jack exclaimed, marching down the hallway.

“Uh, boss?” Izanami cleared her throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Jack frowned at her. “Like what?”

She pointedly gestured with her paws at Jack’s empty hands.

He looked down. And then around the hallway. “Yeah, I think I left my staff with Bunny.” He paused, and chewed his lower lip. “What’m I thinking, he’s unconscious, he can’t use it even if we are attacked…”

Kern snorted. “Go get your staff. I swear, if your head wasn’t attached sometimes….”

“Don’t even suggest that,” Jack said. “Last person we teased over memory problems is… stable. Stable’s good. But he wasn’t. So.”

Kern nodded. Jack returned quickly, and they headed out.

Time to get some water.

Hopefully, there’d be no surprises.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Thursday, 10 July 2014 -- Congo River Basin, Central Africa, early afternoon**

Kern slid through the trees, walking the forest paths with relative ease. Here, he was not Kernunnos, God of the Wild and Fertility. Here he was only Father, First, Last, and Only.

He walked on four legs, and his golden hide was dappled silver with scars. Once, there had been sons and daughters capable of walking the paths with him, lesser stags and does he had guarded viciously. There had been great wolves capable of hunting them, humans who snuck their way in, any manner of predator. Dragons and gryphons, he remembered almost fondly. Difficult to kill, but worth it, for a single fawn.

Or the fawn’s mother’s gratitude, he thought, and snickered.

He couldn’t take this shape Outside anymore; that magic was long gone, lost to iron and the Industrial Revolution. Besides. This shape didn’t have _thumbs_ either.

He sensed it when the paths reached the Congo, the ridge above the temple. Jack, focused though he was, had not lost his skill at tactics and strategy. They were to meet on the ridge, and look the situation over before approaching.

Kern pawed at the rich loam beneath his hoof, and scented the air. Branches caught in his rack, and he tossed his head with impatience, snapping the wood with a sudden cacophony of cracks. Freed, he lowered his head and stepped through to the Outside, his body shimmering and twisting like quicksilver, settling into his more humanoid guise.

His knees didn’t ache as much. Clearly he needed to walk the forest paths more.

“Izanami,” he said, and glided over to her, silent as only a canny old buck-deer could be. The ground squished underfoot, soggy but not overly so. Kern chanced a look up at the sky, but it was blocked by the branches overhead. Had it rained recently? Not that it changed anything.

He knelt down beside Izanami, and gently placed one hand on her hip. “Anything?”

She smiled at the physical contact. “Something seems… off, but neither Rai nor I can place it. Jack’s too focused to notice the faint signs. But, do you see this, here?” she pointed at a large footprint in the dirt. “It wasn’t here the last time we were by, and I don’t recognize it as being from anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“It could be native,” he allowed, very dubiously. Hunter though he was, he’d never tried his luck in Africa.

Still, that was a very _large_ impression. And it looked… strange. The toes were splayed oddly, three in front and one rear-facing, similar to a chicken, but not avian.

“The great dinosaurs did all die off, did they not?” Izanami asked, one of her tails twitching.

“Yes. Before my time; it has been confirmed many times over by a curious spirit or ten thousand.”

She shook her head, ears flattening. “Then what could it be? Jack will not wait for us to scout, you can tell by his eyes.”

He nodded seriously. “Best keep a lookout. Has Rai seen this?”

“Others. Across the temple.” She took a deep breath. “I will remain on four legs, for greater mobility, yes?”

He nodded again. “I will speak with Jack, and then move down to the Fountain to fill the jug.”

“Good luck keeping him back,” she muttered, and shifted. Her fur gleamed in the light momentarily, before she slinked off into the shadows, her pale coat not sticking out nearly as badly as one might expect.

Kern moved towards Jack, who was entirely easy to find as he was the one sitting in the middle of the frosted-and-iced trees. The poor things, they weren’t developed for that sort of cold. Kern sighed, and made a mental note to bring Bunnymund, or some other spirit capable of healing plants, just as soon as the situation was resolved.

“Jack,” he called softly, once he was close enough to be heard at that volume.

It still took Jack a few seconds to respond. He twitched, as if being pulled from a daze, and glanced at Kern unseeing for a few more seconds before his eyes snapped into focus.

“Oh, uh. Sorry.”

“You were thinking about Bunnymund, yes? It is understandable.”

Jack dropped down out of the trees. “What else should I think about? Why’m I even _here_ , Kern? You could do this without me.” He looked down, and petulantly froze the earth. Kern took a prudent step back. “I should be sitting with him.”

Kern stepped forward a grasped Jack by the shoulders. “You want him better, yes?” Jack nodded. “You want to _help_ him get better, yes?” Jack nodded again. “Then you’re exactly where you need to be.” He cleared his throat. “Also, there might be something or someone about; Nami found tracks. I don’t recognize them.”

Which was saying something. Though the shape and heaviness of the tracks did tickle at an old memory, but he couldn’t place it quite yet. It would come, in time, and likely just be some sort of old hunting memory he’d misplaced after millenia of not thinking about it.

“Fine. If it’s a threat, we’re expecting that. If it’s a wild animal, it should bugger off.” Jack’s entire body flinched, no doubt at using one of Bunnymund’s favorite bits of slang. Or something. “We need to get the water.”

Kern nodded, and signaled over the earbuds that he and Jack were moving in. They crept carefully down to the Fountain - well, he was careful, Jack was still a bit too focused to fully concentrate on stealth - and were completely taken aback when - nothing happened.

“Anti-climatic, don’t you think?” Jack asked as he dipped the jug in the Fountain’s waters.

A hair-raising, glass-shattering screech terrified birds into flight for miles around.

Kern twitched an ear. “You jinxed it,” he deadpanned.

“Monster!” Raijin shouted over the comm. He sounded just a few shades short of terrified. “Twelve o’clock!”

“What is it?” Izanami whispered from her end.

Another screech sounded, weirdly harmonic. And the ground began to shake in a rhythmic manner, as loose stones shook free of their places, clattering to the ground.

Kern took a deep breath. “Let’s see,” he said, and began to grin. “Is now a time to quote one of your movies, Jack?”

“What? No! Now’s a time to kill whatever it - wait, do we even have to fight? We can just run away!”

“Can’t!” Raijin said, appearing at Kern’s elbow, as if by magic. Probably magic. “A barrier went up the moment Jack touched the water!”

Jack looked disgusted. “Fight it is, then. Okay, Kern, quote a movie.”

“It’s a trap!” he obliged, shouting as loudly as he could. He couldn’t get the accent right, sadly enough, but the emotion was there.

Izanami appeared at Kern’s other elbow just as the monster rounded the corner of the temple-

“Oh, fuck me,” Kern whispered, aghast.

The Hydra glared down at them with five sets of enraged eyes, the fangs of the central head dripping a nasty-looking, greenish slime. It roared again, each head with its own pitch and duration, before settling back into a deep baritone hissing, oddly resonant with itself.

It’s body was two-fold: first, there was the over-large forelegs, tipped with huge, clawed paws, which supported the elephantine bulk of the main body. Five heads snaked their way out of the broad shoulders, and a long, sinuous, and muscular tail trailed off around the side of the temple. Each neck was easily a dozen or more feet in length, thinner than the tail, but no less muscular and strong. The long jaws were lined with long, needle-like teeth, perfect for tearing and shredding prey, and the fan-like ears were designed for hunting in marshy terrain, particularly underwater. It was a sickly greyish-green in color, with dark undertones; perfect for hiding in a swamp.

And apparently, the terrain here was growing swampier by the moment, Kern noted with growing alarm, as he had to put more effort than expected to pull his left hoof out of the softening ground.

“Uh, guys? I think the ground is turning into a swamp,” he observed as he fumbled for his spear.

Jack looked down at the ground, and made a face. “Uh. Yeah. Hold on.”

The burgeoning swamp failed to ice over when Jack slammed the butt of his staff into the ground. The Regent’s expression was at once incredibly complex and entirely simple, right before the hydra screamed again and lunged.

Kern flung himself to the side, avoiding teeth by a hair. Quite literally; his haunch ached from where sharp fangs had shaved the fur off, though the skin was unbroken.

And, hey, it hadn’t been the central head, with the drippy, likely venomous - _please not acidic!_ \- fangs.

“Kern!” the two kitsune called, in eerie synchronicity.

“I’m fine!”

The wind began to whistle through the trees, temperature dropping fast. “I feel the love,” Jack said, and then began throwing balls of ice at the hydra’s multiple heads.

It roared - more in irritation than pain, Kern noted absently - and two of the heads started snapping the iceballs out of the air, while the central head dove forward to bite at Jack. He dodged handily, as he was wont to do, and sprayed a sheet of ice up the neck of the central one, locking it down for the moment in an awkward half-lunging position.

It wouldn’t last long, judging by the cracks already appearing as the creature flailed and flexed it’s neck, but it’d do. Jack turned and iced down two more heads, and then the other two, in quick succession, carefully feeding more and more ice to try to prevent them escaping.

“Quick!” Jack called to the others. “Cut them off!”

Kern felt a moment’s doubt, but no more. Hydra were as mortal as he was, just with more brains to operate the body with. Cut off enough heads, the blood loss alone would kill the beast. He silently thanked Herakles for defeating the only one that wasn’t mortal; _that_ would have been too much to handle.

The two kitsune charged the hydra from either side, scrambling up its sides as though it were a tree and they were particularly angry cats. A comparison he would have to remember never to make in anyone’s hearing, if he wanted to ever have sex again - at least for the next century or two.

He himself charged from the front, hands going to his knives instead of the spear slung over one shoulder. The situation was not quite that dire; he needed to cut off hydra heads, not shred it into so much ground chuck.

Raijin removed the leftmost head, Izanami the right, with quick and efficient strokes of wakizashi they pulled from their ‘hammer space’, as Raijin had called it earlier, while Kern removed the two next to the central head, which was proving more difficult to cut that the others.

No matter, he decided, dodging backwards when the ice around the central neck - bleeding from the several deep cuts he’d made - shattered the ice around it and reared back, bellowing in pain.

The creature would bleed out soon enough.

“Right, get back!” Jack hovered in front of the hydra, staff at the ready to immobilize it - or force it back or to the sides, if it fell in an inconvenient manner - and looked down at Kern. “Who has the water?”

Kern landed several feet to the left of the hydra’s body - and promptly sank into the muck to his thighs.

“Uh, a little help?” he shouted to the kitsune. “I set it down over by that tree at the top of the hill there!” He pointed.

“When?”

“When you weren’t looking, obviously.” He smirked, and then looked around for the kits. “Uh, guys?”

“Yes, _koibito_?” Raijin said from behind him.

He absolutely did not jump.

Absolutely not.

Stupid stealthy foxes.

Raijin grabbed hold of his arm, and began to pull; Izanami quickly appeared and grabbed his other arm and did likewise. Kern chanced to look over at the hydra at that moment, and _felt_ the blood drain from his face. It should have been dead by now. Instead, the bleeding stumps were - shifting. Writhing, even.

And then, with a loud shriek that made all four of them double over, clutching their ears, two new heads shot forth from each stump in a spray of gore and rage.

“Oh. Fuck. Me. It’s the _Lernean Hydra_!” Kern shouted, panic-strickened.

“The _what_?” Jack yelled, straightening up and flinging ice like his life depended on it. Because it did.

_Nine_ heads were chasing him around in the air. How he was managing to dodge, Kern couldn’t figure out.

“It’s the one Herakles killed millennia ago! Cut off one head, two grow back in it’s place!”

Jack promptly turned Kern’s fur white, by spinning in mid-air and diving straight for the small copse of Hydra heads. The beast - beasts? - screeched in delight, and promptly started snapping and straining. Jack dodged by the skin of his teeth, flying between the thrashing necks. Several of the heads managed to bite each other, which started a small squabble between four - five? Possibly six - heads, until the central one snarled and the rest settled down.

“It doesn’t look very dead to me!” Jack complained loudly, peppering the creature’s back with sharp spikes of ice as he flew by.

“The central head is immortal!” Kern called back, finally pulling his legs free of the muck he’d landed in with the aid of the kitsune. The the trio promptly scattered to avoid two heads that took notice of them and snapped at the place they’d been standing mere moments before.

“If it’s immortal it can’t be killed!”

“But the central head can be removed and buried with wards so it can’t regrow a body! That’s what Herakles did!”

“How do you stop it growing more heads? I vaguely remember something about that!” Jack asked, dodging another biting head or three and spraying their eyes with frost. Must to their displeasure.

Kern dodged a claw swipe - why didn’t the cursed thing do them all a favor and fall over when it did that? - and reached for the trees. The branches, some big enough to support small huts, slamming on its back didn’t seem to bother it much.

Raijin and Izanami danced around two heads that were keen to eat them, slashing and stabbing at the eyes, nose, and ears - really, anything within reach that wasn’t sharp, pointy teeth.

“You burn the stumps!” Kern yelled, and then dodged a head.

Raijin perked up. “ _Burn_? I have just the thing for that!” He fumbled at his belt, and pulled out a large, red stone. “Aha!”

Jack must have caught the glint of light on the stone, because he turned and hung motionless in mid-air. “Raijin? What are you doing -”

The Hydra wrapped its tail around Jack, and then slammed him down into the ground. It would have been more effective if the ground hadn’t been turning into mud soup. Still, it left Jack slightly dazed, which would have been the death of him.

If the Wind hadn’t chosen that exact moment to come screeching onto the scene.

Literally.

Ow.

Kern shielded his ears as the Wind screeched, louder and longer than the roaring Lernean Hydra, which immediately focused several heads on the new threat. Jack was still constricted and dazed, but not in immediate danger of losing his head. They needed to get him free, like yesterday.

He glanced over at Izanami, and saw that she was preoccupied with one head of her own; Raijin was busy fumbling with the stone he’d pulled out - where’d he seen that thing before? It looked familiar - and dodging another head that was pursuing him.

He was the only one unmolested at the moment. He reasoned that it was up to him to save Jack then.

Alright. Glancing around, he saw that Jack was currently lying within about ten feet of a lone tree that had somehow not been knocked over by the lashing tail and flailing heads. And to his left was a convenient tree stump - harder to use, but he wasn’t Kernunnos the Hunter for nothing - only a foot away. Nodding to himself, he hopped onto the stump and _moved_.

For a few glorious seconds, he was the Golden Hind again, running endlessly through the primeval forest, catching glimmers of his long-lost kin through the foliage and underbrush... and then he was himself again, standing several feet away from where Jack lay. Apparently coming to himself finally, as he was starting to struggle, but his staff was just out of reach.

Kern took a deep breath, and charged. The Hydra’s tail was thicker than any of her necks, so it took several strikes with his knife before flesh and blood finally parted. The Hydra screamed - and was promptly echoed by the Wind - and Kern was able to kick Jack’s staff to him.

Jack immediately frosted over the butt end and formed a spear tip, which he stabbed into the wound before it could close, and twisted. The creature bellowed again, and it’s tail slacked minutely.

More than enough for skinny little Jack to wiggle free.

He rolled to his feet, laughing as he swiped at a cut on his lip from the impact. He didn’t seem to notice the thin line of blood trickling down the side of head.

For some reason, the laughter made Kern shudder. It didn’t sound quite right, quite… Jack.

“Jack?” he called, turning to check the progress of the fight. First, his two lovers - Izanami and Raijin showed minor injuries, nothing to go to the Infirmary over. And then he checked on the positions of the heads-

“Jack! Look out!”

No time.

Kern dove, and took the bite around his torso, instead of Jack. He screamed even as he felt lightheaded, a combination of the pain and the venom his mind distantly told him was entering his body.

“Kern!” Jack howled, and then the Hydra was screaming and dropped him, and the ground was so very, very soft. He had to move, he knew he did, but he couldn’t make his limbs answer him. Yet it was important, and the green was calling him.

Jack lifted him up and cradled his head, the Wind providing them cover for the moment.

“Kern? Kern! Answer me!”

“... tree.”

“... Tree is not an answer!”

“Get… me to…”

“Oh.” His hooves dragged in the muck, as he was pulled backwards to the green. A tree. Jack left him leaning back against the mud-splattered bark, muttered something he couldn’t hear, and then was gone.

Kern had to try several times to grasp the magic that allowed him to sink into the wood, blissfully pain-free for long moments, before he melded out of another one, several yards from the ongoing fight. He lay there, exhausted and only partly separated from the tree, as his body now worked to leech the venom from his system. Hard work, and taxing; he would be feeling this one for at least a week, maybe two.

He absently felt like he was abandoning his comrades-in-arms, but quickly found that he needn’t have worried.

Raijin had turned into quite the little terror to match Jack’s furious, rage-driven assault.

Whereas Jack was - quite worrisomely - flinging attacks willy-nilly with nary a thought for his own safety, and screaming incoherently, Raijin had found the time to pull out the _Tonbogiri_ and affixed the red stone to the hilt.

The kitsune then slammed the butt of the oversized-spear into the ground. The blade exploded in flames.

Oh. It was _that_ stone.

He then leapt into action, taking advantage of Jack’s distracting attacks - and subsequently creation of another pair of new heads, because he wasn’t apparently thinking straight - to start thrusting and slashing at the necks of the Hydra’s many heads. The moment he lopped the first one off, instantly cauterizing the wound, the Hydra’s remaining ten heads screamed in eerie unison for one long, drawn-out moment, and then they all pulled back and stared at Raijin for all of two seconds.

And then they attacked as one.

The Wind came down out of the sky, wings spread and talons sinking deep into the Hydra’s back. She pulled fistfulls of flesh free, clearly digging for the beast’s spine and causing a lot of pain in the process.

Jack howled, guttural and terrifying, continuing his relentless assault with ice.

Terrible as the beast was, she slowly but inevitably began losing heads to Raijin’s firy spear, and soon, after only a seemingly endless moment of fighting, Kern was surprised to realize that they were down to the last head.

And his own head felt suddenly clear. Glancing down, he found that, while the wounds had scabbed over, the venom had completely leeched out into the tree, leaving it rapidly dying. He gave silent thanks for it’s sacrifice, and teleported back into the fray via a stump near the beast’s right foreleg.

He might not be at one hundred percent, but he was damn well going to _finish_ the fight.

And Jack was certainly no help - was he _frothing_ at the mouth? - when it came to coordinating the final assault, so that left Kern to command the Shepherds.

“Rai! Keep her distracted with the blade while I mount her back!”

“That had better not be innuendo,” Izanami muttered, shifting to four legs to better savage the hydra’s leg.

“Nami, attack her underside! Keep her guessing!”

Kern leapt and landed atop the rapidly healing back - apparently heads weren’t the only thing she could regrow - and clambered up to the base of the central head. He pulled out a long, thin wire, which was attached to a pair of handles, and looped it around the beast’s neck. If his knives weren’t going to cut it, maybe a heavy garrotte would.

He braced, and wrenched with all his might.

The garrote barely made it around the diameter of the neck at first, but that didn’t matter, as the distance rapidly shrank under the pressure he applied, the wire cutting through muscle, and hitting bone, which momentarily arrested the movement.

But only for a few seconds.

With a resounding crack and groan of shearing bone and flesh, the garrote snapped through the vertebrae and the head fell screaming - _How?_ \- into the muck.

Jack promptly speared it with large shards of ice, before spraying it with layer upon layer of frost, freezing the central, immortal head in place.

The body, without the central head, collapsed. There were three other heads yet remaining, but they promptly went limp. Huh. Perhaps there weren’t more than one brain after all.

“Well,” Kern said, and looked around. The Wind had settled down on the ground, and appeared ruffled, with broken feathers along her wings and a crack in her beak. “That was… difficult.”

The kitsune suddenly surrounded him, feeling all over his body and babbling worriedly in Japanese.

“I’m alright,” he said, barely remembering to put his knives away before stroking their hair, their shoulders, their backs. “I’ve survived much worse, if you will recall.”

They continued to fuss over him despite his words, but that only provided a minor distraction from Jack’s behavior. He was _still_ icing the central head, and snarling at it most disturbingly.

He glanced at the Wind. She was eying Jack worriedly.

“Hey you two, stop it. I think Jack’s… lost touch with reality, just a bit,” Kern said, and sighed.

He’d dealt with berserkers before, but they’d never thought Jack’d lose it. Not really. A bit touching that he’d lost it over Kern.

Izanami turned to look, and pressed back against Kern’s side. “Yes,” she said. “I believe he has. You have a plan, I hope, my own?”

He nodded, and braced himself.

And then charged, tackling Jack out of the air and knocking his staff to the side. Without it, and without focus, Jack had never been able to overcome him, brute strength to brute strength, albeit barely.

Of course, he realized, that was when Jack wasn’t in the grips of a berserk rage.

His Regent went on the offensive at once, both knees coming up between Kern’s legs with all the strength in that wiry body. The pain was bad enough he could have died from it, but then Jack was making a spirited attempt at biting Kern’s throat in the not-fun way, rather obviously out for blood.

But then the kitsune joined him, each taking one arm and pinning it, well out of reach of Jack’s mouth, and Kern, after a second’s recovery to focus and ignore his throbbing - again, not in the fun way - manhood and bits, tackled Jack’s legs. He then began trickling what was left of his energy into Jack, pushing at his mind and calming him, like he would an enraged, rapid beast in the forest.

It seemed to do the trick, though it took a couple minutes.

At once, the fight went out of Jack, and he stopped struggling. Kern let himself slump down on Jack’s legs, no longer spinning his energy out into the other spirit, letting himself rest.

Perhaps, he realized, relaxing just a little too much. It was bare seconds between Jack’s calming, and Kern’s own falling asleep.

Or passing out, but he preferred, after the fact, to think of it as ‘gracefully falling asleep once the job was done.’

_Stupid adrenaline crash_ , he thought, before he ceased to know anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Who here's freaking out that the cup's going to arrive too late to do any good? Raise your hands!"
> 
> Corgi's Commentary: "Mmm, fight chapter. Ooo, different point of view character. Woo, passed out Kern... wait, what?"


	43. Chapter 43

**Sunday, 13 July 2014 -- Infirmary, Fortress, Antarctica, 10:54 am local time**

Gretchen gave him the stink eye, but didn’t say a word. Jack smiled, bright and sunny and an absolute lie, and then looked back at Bunny when she vanished into the office or storage closet or _not-here_. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Bunny’s paw, and checked the machines still hooked up to his - lover, charge, other half… way too many words to describe their relationship.

Then he looked to his right, twisting his neck at an awkward angle to check on Kern, who was still conked out - but not snoring anymore, thank Polaris - on the neighboring bed. He didn’t feel bad, not one whit, over having his chair angled so his back was somewhat to Kern. Izanami and Raijin were dancing attendance on the old deer, he didn’t need _Jack_.

Bunny, however, needed Jack. Or Jack needed Bunny. Whichever it was, Jack was fully indulging in the lover-paranoia of “I have to be here at all times, if I leave he will immediately go into cardiac arrest and die”.

The healers didn’t agree, which was why they’d tried to throw him out nine times now. The Kitsune thought his attitude a sensible one, which was why they’d first snuck him back in, every time, and then found him a comfortable chair to spend his time in.

He was pretty sure they’d stolen it from Odin.

He also did not care.

Someone - the duty rotated, as though no one could stand being around him too long, or they just didn’t want to risk bothering Gretchen - would bring him reports on the current weather-and-water spirits at large, for him to look over and evaluate. Someone was causing the situation across Asia. That someone had to be in the reports. Jack, having nothing better to do but count Bunny’s breaths, had been elected the one to read the stupid things.

Jack glanced up at the door when it opened. Edwin walked in. Raijin tried sneaking in behind him, but a nurse noticed him and chased him out the door.

Edwin peered around the room for a moment, before his gazed settled on Jack. “Ah. There you are, Regent.” He meandered over, casually dodging the grate that popped open, admitting Izanami to the room. He stopped next to Jack’s chair. “I have these for you.”

He handed Jack _another_ stack of reports.

Jack sniffled, and sneezed.

They were very dusty.

“How old _are_ these?” He asked, not quite poking at the top one. The rubber band holding it closed had broken into pieces, which appeared stuck to the manilla folder.

A nurse finally noticed Izanami and proceeded to chase her around the room, which allowed Raijin to sneak in behind her back and actually make it to Kern’s bedside.

Edwin glanced down at the stack and resettled his glasses, frowning. “Ah. That one is at least four hundred and twenty-three years old. It is the newest document in the pile.”

Jack didn’t let go of Bunny’s hand. It made rubbing his temples a little harder. “Why would you… _Why_?” He’d specified _recent_ and _relevant_ and this did not sound like either.

Edwin paced slowly to the other side of the bed. “Regent, consider the fact that the last two ‘horsemen’ - as the younger agents are calling them - were considered deceased before they attacked.” He paused and peered at the trio of heart monitors, idly fingering the cross at his neck. “Two may only be a coincidence, but I think it’s the beginning of pattern. I suspect that we are dealing with a ‘deceased’ spirit in this case as well.”

“Did the tiny green aliens living in your desk drawer tell you that?” Jack asked, mostly seriously. If he never had to hear about Edwin’s tiny green aliens, the happier he would be. They kept stealing the oreos. And yet, he’d asked.

He blamed the way Raijin was clinging to the ceiling behind Edwin.

The nurses had so far not noticed him, even though they were standing directly underneath him.

Edwin glanced at him. “Oh, goodness no; they only provide advice on my ties.” He straightened from examining the monitors. “When I actually wear them, that is. But I digress.” He paced slowly back around the bedside as he spoke. “In actual point of fact, I used bibliomancy to determine if the likelihood of another ‘deceased’ spirit being the culprit known as ‘Famine’ was high. All indications point to ‘yes.’”

Jack did let go of Bunny’s hand this time, carefully putting his lover’s hand down on the bed before reaching up and massaging his temples. “Which books did you use?”

Edwin eyed him like _he_ was the nutter. “Why, the Bible, of course. Several versions, including my original Gutenberg. They seemed most appropriate to a theoretical apocalyptic scenario.”

“I… Y’know what, sure, I’ll read the files of old and dust and allergy attacks. Just stop looking at me like that.”

Jack may have been imagining things - or completely distracted by how Raijin was making faces at the nurses from the ceiling - but he could have sworn he saw a ghost of a smile flit across Edwin’s face, but if it had, it was gone in the next instant, replaced with a frown.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Regent, I have another matter to attend to; my swords need watering, else they won’t sing, after all.” Edwin turned to leave, strolling leisurely out the door.

Jack opened his mouth, and then closed it. What could he say, anyways? Instead, he did his best to ignore the Kitsune antics, and picked up Bunny’s hand again. “Alright, Cottontail, want to join me in boredom and sneezing? What’s this first one… Oh,” he said, utterly enthused. Not. “It’s Iku-Turso.”

Reading the old reports was just as exciting as watching paint dry. Less. Less exciting, because at one point he needed to send Izanami off for a number of ancient-languages-to-English dictionaries, since he was an uneducated peon who didn’t speak… Ancient Finnish.

_No one_ spoke Ancient Finnish. He was completely blameless.

Yet they still had an Ancient Finnish - Apparently it was called ‘Finno-Ugric’? The hell? - to English dictionary. Go figure.

It was still pretty annoying, especially after he mis-translated “dead by bowl of soup” into “sea god”. Though… maybe the mistranslation was the other way around…

It was when he hit upon his sixth old report - and after the nurses had finally given up chasing the kitsune out for the day, since they were actually being _useful_ , instead of just nuisances - that he thought he might have found something.

“Gong Gong,” he told Bunny. “So far, looks good. Let’s keep reading.”

Someone had penciled in ‘Kanghui cries like a baby’ in the margin of the first page - who was Kanghui? Why did people need to know he ‘cried like a baby’? How did a baby cry, anyways, full of rage and uncontrolled emotion and gallons of snot? - and there were a few doodles of a… he thought it looked kind of dragon-like… getting beheaded.

There was a lot of blood, though since it was black and white he couldn’t confirm that blood was, exactly, what it was.

Also tears, which might explain the comment. Still strange.

Anyway, apparently they had the skull stored in one of the Vaults here. That… might be useful, actually.

He glanced over his shoulder to see which kitsune was present. Izanami.

“Hey, Izanami?”

She twitched, and sat up. Apparently she’d been dozing. “Yes, _taichou_?”

“Want to go see a guy about a sea monster’s skull?”

She blinked. “I - sure, but… where’s Rai?”

The grate on the ceiling popped open. “Here! Just went out for a bite to eat.”

He dropped down, after reseating the grate somehow, without leaving the ceiling, and pecked a kiss on Izanami’s forehead. “I’ll watch them while you two are away.” He grinned cheekily at Jack. “I also claim your chair, _taichou_.”

“Fine, but I want it back when I return,” Jack said. He stood up and caught his staff up in one hand. “C’mon, Izanami. Let’s see if I’m right about this guy.”

Odin was waiting for them in the storage room. Jack raised his eyebrows, and the old god rolled his eye. “You think gossip doesn’t travel faster’n light around here? Fuck, I know you’ve been mostly out of headquarters tailing that rabbit of yours, but how can you forget a simple fact like that? You might’ve found the asshole trying to drown the world and want to check something. The both of you are useless at this sort of magic. What’re you looking for?”

Jack explained what he’d learned in the report, and that Gong Gong’s skull was apparently down here somewhere. He figured they might be able to use that to determine if he was alive again.

“And if the skull’s missing, that’d be a good sign too,” Odin said. He nodded, and twitched his jacket sleeve. “Right. Where’s the box?”

Jack pulled out the file, sneezed - _again_ \- as he shook the dust loose, and peered at the scrawl for a long moment. “Uh… says here… Shelf ZZX-43-A. Level 2B, Section 9? There’re more than one levels in storage?”

Odin nodded, and turned. “This way. That level is for body parts.” Because of course WINTER would have a collection of body parts.

They wandered through the stacks for a good five minutes before reaching a set of stairs that wound down in a spiral… into dim, dim illumination, provided by naked, nearly dead bulbs.

“Someone should replace those lights sometime. I hear LEDs are really taking off these days, and last next-best-thing-to-forever,” Jack noted offhandedly. “How many floors _are_ there? I can’t see the bottom of the stairwell.”

“Classified information, Agent Frostbite.” He couldn’t see Odin’s face, but he was sure the geezer was smirking.

“But… I’m a Regent?”

“A level eleven Regent, yes. I’m level thirteen.”

Jack made a face, and looked over at Izanami. The kitsune shrugged back, and said, quite happily, “I’m only level five, but I still get access to the good stuff.”

“I am not interested in your relationship with Kern,” Odin said.

She ‘meeped’ and quieted. Jack refrained from giggling, as he didn’t feel like getting the ‘evil eye’ from Odin. For all he knew, the guy actually _could_ ‘evil eye’ him if he felt like it. Whatever that actually meant….

They passed several landings, with doors, on their way down. 1A, 1B, 1C, 2A… 2A-2? The hell?... and finally came to 2B. The door was made of iron, and bound in… was that some sort of _stone_?

Jack reached out to touch it - Odin caught his hand.

“Don’t touch.”

“But why-”

Izanami squeaked. “That’s the _Sessho-seki!_ ”

Odin grinned, all teeth, and nodded. “Yes. The Killing Stone. We modified it to bar this door.”

“... We’re in WINTER headquarters,” Jack said. “Why do we need a deadly stone in our own headquarters?” His voice totally didn’t squeak, at all.

“Body parts sometimes get up and try to walk away. The iron blocks magic, the stone kills the body parts.”

“That - what? Get up and… we’re _going in there_?” He pointed his staff at the door. “Just the three of us?”

Odin raised one eyebrow. “You doubt my prowess? Or yours?”

“Body parts. That won’t die.” Jack clutched his staff to his chest like a particularly hard and skinny stuffed animal. “There are horror movies about that, sir.”

“Ah, yes. Your precious ‘zombie movies.’” He frowned. “Come, the sooner we find the skull, the sooner you can leave the room.”

With that, Odin opened the door.

A body fell out into the hall.

Jack screamed.

“Oh, for - fuck’s sake, Frank, you fucking idiot.” Odin bent down and hoisted the body up into his arms. It dangled over his arms like soaked laundry.

Jack noticed that it seemed stitched together, and had a pair of iron bolts sticking out of the neck. It was missing an arm and a leg, and half it’s face, but it was unmistakably-

“Frankenstein’s monster is _real_? I thought it was just a book!”

Odin looked crankier than usual. “Unfortunately. He won’t stay on the fucking shelf. Keeps trying to walk around, make new friends, strangle people when they notice the hardware. Too goddamn annoying to put up with that shit.”

“...make new friends, or _make_ new friends?” Jack asked in a whisper. Izanami giggled at him.

Odin shrugged, arms still full of manufactured person-now-corpse. “He has a crush on the archivist?”

With that, Odin swept into the room, leaving Jack gaping in his wake. Izanami poked him in the forehead, closed his mouth, and trotted after the old god. Jack shook himself mentally and followed, being especially careful to only touch the large brass door handle on his way in, and to close the door behind him.

Odin dumped the - Frankenstein - on a large table, hesitating just long enough to arrange the limbs into a less contorted position. Then he continued on, counting shelves and turning down an aisle halfway down the room. “The skull should be halfway down here,” he said.

Jack crept down the aisle warily, eyeing the various objects on the shelf. He paused and stared at one object in particular, a vial of red fluid and ashes, labeled in some language he was unfamiliar with.

“What is -”

Odin growled from further down the aisle. “So help me, if you’re staring at Dracula’s remains, I will strangle you.”

Jack squeaked and hurried after him.

At the vague halfway point, they began looking for the box containing Gong Gong’s skull. Jack still had the file folder, giving him an advantage over the others in that he knew _exactly_ what the label would have written on it.

The box was… very large. Larger than _Jack_. “Uh. Help?”

“Just slide it out,” Odin said, and caught one corner. “Pull.”

Jack did as instructed, and the box slid out with minimal effort, despite it’s bulk. The side facing Jack popped open, and the skull fell out part way, right into his face.

He screamed. Again.

This wasn’t a good day.

“For fuck’s sake. Are you a goddamned field agent or not?” Odin caught the skull and shoved it back in the box. “Now shut the fuck up and let me find where the rest of the body is.”

After ensuring the skull would stay in the box, Odin moved around to Jack’s side and tossed a bag of - something - on the floor. It clinked, though not the sound of metal. Pottery? He then bent down and dumped the contents on the dusty floor.

Ah. Ceramic. Runes?

“Jack, if I can’t see what I’m doing we’re going to be down here a lot longer than just a few minutes.” Odin pointed at him. “And I don’t want fire down here, there’s a few things that’re explosive. Do your thing.”

“Explosive…?” Jack shuddered, but did as he was told. A little, glowing crystal of ice formed in the crook of his staff, and he held it forward over Odin’s head.

“Good.” Odin began fiddling with his runes, tossing one ceramic piece up in the air, staring at it, poking it, then doing the same thing with another. And then going back to the first one to flip it over and over in his fingers, before setting it down and picking up a third. And on. And on.

Finally, he straightened up and scooped the various runes back into the bag. “Right. The rest of his body is… here.”

And he tapped a neighboring box, one right next to where the skull belonged. The box took up the rest of the shelf.

It was a very _long_ shelf.

Odin snatched the file out of Jack’s hands, and flipped through the pages. Then he made a disgusted sound. “Someone spilt ink on this page. Probably where they say what happened to the body.” He tapped the box.

“So… no dice?” Jack reasoned, trying to put of of his mind just how much body that really was. “That means we can leave now?”

Odin shoved the box back onto the shelf, dusted himself off, and turned to appraise Jack. And sighed. “Yes, yes, we can leave.”

Where Odin had led the way into the room, Jack led the way back out, going fast enough that he was at the door while Izanami and Odin were sauntering along the line of shelves. Even with his back to the wall, Jack kept feeling like someone was following him. He glanced back as the others filed through the door.

Was Frankenstein _twitching?_ He twitched himself, and slammed the door a moment later.

Odin sighed, but didn’t comment.

They trudged back up the rickety, creaking spiral staircase - somehow creepier now that Jack had been in the room of sometimes-reanimating body parts - and he was never gladder to the see the barren halls of WINTER HQ than he was when he left the main storage floor.

He sighed, and pouted. “Damn. I thought that was a good one too. I guess it’s back to the files….”

Odin cleared his throat. “Pay attention to the asshole’s followers. Most of them had similar powers and outlooks. There wasn’t more than fifteen of them, twenty if you include the hopeless idiots. Should cut down on the paperwork.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully, and thanked him. They went their separate ways, Odin back to … whatever he spent his time doing, and Jack back to Bunny’s side. He sent Izanami to Edwin, to gather the files on Gong Gong’s followers, since he didn’t recall anything like that in the pile he’d been given.

He’d just ousted Raijin from his chair and gotten himself settled, when she returned.

With a _pushcart_ of paperwork.

He dropped his head onto the bed and groaned.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Sunday, 13 July 2014 -- Infirmary, Fortress, Antarctica, 8:04 pm local time**

His eyes were bleeding. His eyes were fucking bleeding and no one had any pity and Gretchen had threatened him with a sedative.

Jack slumped in his once-comfortable chair, now a torture device to his back and rear, and flipped open the last file of the night. The absolute last. Because if he had to read another one after this, he was going to go crazy. And light the files on fire.

“Why the hell aren’t these alphabetized?” he asked the air.

Gretchen swatted him upside the head. “You should be resting. You’ve been working all day.”

“You are a horrible woman, demonic and evil. But no, why does Edwin’s filing system hate the alphabet?”

She rolled her eyes, didn’t comment, and stalked away to harass some other poor soul. He began reading about - how the hell did you pronounce this guy’s name? - Xiangliu. Was that with a zed-start sound? An ess? Too many different languages were crowding his brain and he no longer remembered the rules.

“Shi-yang-lee-you,” Raijin pronounced carefully over his shoulder. “It’s Chinese, you know.”

“Cantonese or Mandarin?” he asked, because his brain refused to offer anything else.

“I… forget. I speak both, and get them confused sometimes.” Raijin shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. What’s it say? I’m having trouble with the handwriting. It’s… kinda like a doctor’s. Only, more like a chicken walked all over the page. Did Gretchen write this?”

A large box of bandages slammed into Raijin’s head and he fell over, squawking in indignation.

“Nurses have better handwriting than doctors,” Jack said. “And better aim.” He turned a page. Huh. “Listen to this. _Xiangliu devastated the ecology everywhere he went, leaving nothing but gullies and marshes, devoid of animal life_ ,” he quoted. “And there’s something here about a great flood… poisoning the land…”

Raijin scrambled up off the floor. Izanami was too busy giggling at him to be of any help. “That sounds promising.” Jack quirked an eyebrow at him; he cleared his throat and his ears drooped in embarrassment. “Ah… that didn’t come out right. Whatever, you knew what I meant!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He flipped to the next page, and raised his eyebrows. “No confirmed death.”

He flipped through several more pages. Phrases stood out to him. ‘Nine-headed snake’, ‘ally of Gong Gong’, ‘attempted to drown the world’. And...

Blood sample on the shelf that… was just down the aisle from Gong Gong’s skull.

“Yeah, I’m not going back down there,” he said. “Izanami… no, wait, you went with me to the Storage of Doom already. Raijin, go find one of the terrors - Loki, or Brenda, or Vahan - and send them to… Shelf ZZX-43-C. Level 2B, Section 9. Then go take a message to Odin and see if he’s willing to find a guy.”

Raijin looked between them, gulped, and dashed off. Jack resolved to not stare at dusty parchment, or vellum, or… he really did _not_ want to know if that was actually human skin, no he did not… and just rest while Raijin was away.

“Hey, Izanami?” he asked, closing the folder and setting it to one side. “Question for you. Is it just me, or have all the big bads been involved with reptiles in one form or the other?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Well, Giltine wasn’t generally associated with them, but she _did_ have those dragon things. Apedemak, well… not _exactly_ , but he has been represented as a snake emerging from a lotus flower. And then there was the Lernean Hydra just the other day….”

“Kind of my point,” Jack agreed. “Anyways. Waiting for results. That’s fun.”

Surprisingly, it only took forty-three minutes, thirty-two seconds - not like Jack was counting out of boredom or anything - for Raijin to return, running full tilt. He skidded to a stop right in front of Jack, panting.

“What, did you run all the way here from storage?” Raijin nodded. “But that’s two floors, and most of a mile of hallways!”

“We… he… you were right,” he gasped.

“What?” Jack’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you call?”

Raijin pointed to the pile of earbuds on the table. Oh.

Jack stilled. Wait. He was _right_? They’d identified the culprit?

“Do we know where the guy is?” he asked, standing up.

Raijin nodded, still panting. “Odin’s… looking into it.”

But he was right. Jack grinned, and then began to laugh. “We found him. We’ve got him! We can stop him!” He punched the air and started whooping, laughing in-between each victorious yelp.

Someone coughed. “... can you keep it down? Some... of us… are trying to sleep.”

Everyone froze, and stared.

Kern blinked at them blearily from his bed. “What?”

Jack hung back while the kitsune dove for their - was it fiancé, betrothed, or property? he wondered, and snickered.

“Glad to see you up, Kern,” he said, once the babbling had died down. “There’s a lot for you to catch up on. Hope you’ve had enough sleep.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "You all know what's coming up next, right? Boss fight! Cue dramatic music!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "For those who don't know - which I expect to be most people, since I'm probably the only information junkie in the figurative room - [Bibliomancy](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bibliomancy) is a form of divination using books, most commonly sacred texts, like the Bible.  
> Otherwise, I have no commentary. Kaya pretty much summed it up. ^_^"


	44. Chapter 44

**Monday, 14 July 2014 -- Briefing Room, Fortress, in transit to Mount Fuji, somewhere over the Coral Sea, 8:35 am local time**

Jack looked around the conference table. Odin was there, with his bag of rune stones, looking as distracted and bored as only the head Regent could. Kern was of course there, since he was the one who’d napped all through the discoveries of the past day. The two kitsune couldn’t have been pried from Kern’s side with C4; it was astonishing they’d not curled up on Kern’s lap.

Invites had been extended to the usual suspects; Anika had declined by reason of “reviewing the North Pole’s security” and everyone had kind of agreed to go with it, without having said anything. Weyland had told Jack to get out of the workshop. Thor was busy warning Jane to be careful of the weather; most other senior agents were either busy trying to contain the situation, dealing with other situations that’d sprung up as a result of the main one, or were assigned to the other Guardians.

Jack supposed that at some point the other Guardians would get involved with what was happening, but he kind of hoped they’d stay out of it. Not that he didn’t like them! It was just, well… Bunny was a former soldier. Other WINTER agents were, well, _other WINTER agents_. North had been a bandit, Tooth was still royalty - there was nothing about an abdication in her records, ergo it was still valid - and Sandy was a star, of all things.

Besides, last time they’d all gotten together for a throw down with a big bad, they’d almost all died. Not the best track record, Jack had to admit.

Speaking of track records, for a briefing, this was sure taking a long time to start.

“Hey, old man, why haven’t we started yet?” Jack asked, tossing a paper airplane at Odin when he didn’t immediately respond.

“Jack, I will rip your fucking tongue out if you pull that shit again.” Odin glared at him, then turned to watch the door like a particularly grumpy cat waiting for a mouse to show up.

“Wow, touch- _ey_ today. Have you been taking your blood pressure medication?”

Grumpy Cat looked ready and willing to alleviate his boredom by shredding Jack into many tiny pieces of ouch. “You really wanna push this?”

Jack was saved from coming up with a witty comeback by Edwin’s timely entrance. Oh. Was _that_ what Odin had been waiting for? Why didn’t he just say so?

And, oh god. Edwin was going to the white board. Not another Edwin meeting! Jack thumped his head against the desk.

“Swords’re good and watered?” Odin asked, lip curling.

Edwin smiled, and all-but-chirped, “Yep! They’re singing quite well now. Even the desk-aliens approve!” He shuffled some papers, and adjusted the glasses on his nose. “Now, I believe everyone is in attendance?”

He glanced to Odin for confirmation.

“Yes, we’re all fucking here. Can we get on with this shit?”

Edwin’s right eyebrow twitched slightly, but otherwise didn’t respond to the jab. “Language, sir, if you please. Now, we are…” He glanced at the map that materialized as he look at the white board. Cheater. “Ah, right. Nearing the southern edge of the monsoon. We should be hitting that in about five minutes, I think, at our current speed. Likely as we approach the coast of Papua New Guinea.” He adjusted his glasses again. “Expect some turbulence.”

Jack thumped his head against the table again, and groaned. “Some? It’s a typhoon! Hurricane.” Jack waved his hand dismissively when Edwin opened his mouth. “Same thing, different ocean. Only ‘some’?”

Edwin frowned slightly, and then glanced at his notes. “Ah, where was I…? Oh yes. Xiangliu.” He flipped a few pages, eyes twitching back and forth as he skimmed, before he glanced up and scanned the room. “I must admit, I did not expect this one to resurface; he’d been thoroughly thrashed, and should have died out in some backwater province ages ago.” He glanced to Odin. “Yu the Great certainly left him bloody and beaten.”

“Well, you know what they say about living to fight another day,” Jack pointed out. He covertly glanced at the others. Kern and the kitsune were… he _hoped_ they were only playing footsie under the table and not anything else. Odin was glaring at his rune stones. That left Edwin and Jack to carry the conversation, unless and until someone took pity on him.

Please, someone take pity on him.

Everyone else was studiouslyavoiding eye contact with Jack and Edwin. Cowards.

“Okay,” he said, and sighed, since no one was going to rescue him. “Xiangliu, he-who-neglected-to-die-and-save-me-this-headache. Was he cut into pieces last time or just kicked in the face a lot?”

Edwin adjusted his glasses again. “Well, according to the report, Yu the Great beat him to death. Unfortunately, no body was ever recovered, so he was presumed ‘mostly dead’, rather than ‘all dead’.”

“So, kicked in the face a lot, then allowed to crawl off and recuperate. Let’s not do that this time.” He ignored the reference. It had no relevance to the situation.

And it was highly unlikely that Edwin knew that he’d just referenced a movie. Kern was trying to stifle giggles, though, so he’d obviously noticed. Jack shot him a glare. Kern quieted dutifully.

… mostly.

Edwin nodded blithely. “I agree. I’d recommend some form of slicing-and-dicing. Or perhaps freezing, and dumping at the bottom of the ocean. Or storing in 2B, Section 9. Depending on how much is left.” He hummed thoughtfully.

Jack did not shiver at the mention of 2B, Section 9. Really. That was an involuntary muscle twitch brought on by anticipation of the fight with Xiangliu.

“... did I leave the door open? No, no, of course I didn’t…” Edwin gazed up at the ceiling as he muttered.

Jack didn’t so much as blink, never mind turn to check the door.

“... Frank would’ve told me that I left it open, if I had…”

Inwardly, he cringed. Outwardly, he showed the cool, impassive gaze of a Regent secure in his powers and responsibilities and determination to never, _ever_ go back to 2B, Section 9 _ever again_.

Edwin blinked, and turned back to his notes. “Right. So, what we know of the entity isn’t as much as I’d like. Xiangliu was once a minister to Gong Gong, which likely led to his involvement in the Great Flood of China-”

Jack raised one hand. “Which one? Flood, I mean. There’ve been lots. There’s these things called rivers there, you know. Storm season.”

Edwin frowned at him. “ _The_ Great Flood. Lasted for two generations, in the third millenium BC? Yu the Great ended that too.”

“Are you talking the Biblical flood, forty-days-and-nights, non-condensed version?”

Edwin nodded. “The Chinese equivalent, yes.”

Great. There’d been more than one of those world-ending disasters. He’d have to complain to Bunny about that, and find out who and why, and then hunt the jerks down just so he could punch them in the face.

He really didn’t like world-ending disasters. Even for good reasons.

There were no good reasons.

“Shall I elaborate on that, Regent, or continue with the briefing?” Edwin asked, looking fully prepared to turn this into a lecture on Chinese mythology and history. In fact, he almost looked _eager_ to do so.

Jack quickly backpedaled.

“No, no, just wanted clarification, that’s all. Continue, by all means.” _Please._

Edwin nodded, and referred to his notes for a moment. “After Gong Gong was killed, also by Yu the Great - seriously, we should hire that man - oh right, he was mortal, and eventually died - anyway, after that, Xiangliu wandered about for a while, devastating the ecology…”

Jack amused himself watching Odin during the recitation. The old god looked like he was about to have an apoplexy at the idea of hiring a mortal for WINTER, and his eye started twitching.

“Get on with it, Edwin,” he snapped. “We don’t need to know fuck-all about the ecology.”

Edwin transitioned smoothly. “Jack does not know about his decaying aura, which damaged the ecology where he went. Shouldn’t he be fully informed?”

“Decaying aura, slows a spirit’s healing, don’t die of it or we’ll mock you during the funeral,” Odin snarled, much like his grand-nephew Fenris did. At the squeaky toy that _dared_ exist in Fenris’ home.

Jack hid a snicker behind one hand.

“Yes, I suppose that about covers it. Oh! As long as one’s magical core is strong enough, they can resist the effects.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, and then shrugged. He was fine, the minions were fine… “Gotcha,” he said, and made a mental note to keep an eye on the Wind. She’d probably try to eat the bad guy, which sounded like it’d have bad side effects. Like death.

Or her becoming a terrible force of nature that would destroy the world.

Either or.

Neither good.

As though thinking about the wind had triggered something, the floor - the entire glacier - jerked and began to shake from side to side. And never the same side. Jack felt himself go forward, then back, side, forward, side, back, side-and-forward, side-and-back… He grabbed hold of the table, which was thankfully bolted to the floor, and looked around.

Odin looked like he couldn’t care less, and must have scooped up his rune stones before they got flung into the ventilation system and were lost forever. Edwin had hold of the whiteboard, and his knuckles were incredibly pale, but otherwise he looked as bored by the activity as Odin.

The kitsune had climbed into Kern’s lap, and looked ‘distraught’, in the bad acting sense.

“We need comfort,” Raijin said. Odin glared at them, but didn’t comment.

After that, Edwin droned on for a few more minutes, making sure everyone was up-to-speed on the current situation, he dismissed the meeting and wandered off, muttering about plants and zombies and Frankenstein’s monster and-

Jack stopped listening. And totally didn’t shudder.

Odin stomped out, as he was wont to do, and the other Agents all filtered out, leaving Jack and his minions alone in the room. Jack stood to go himself, and check on Bunny, but Kern cleared his throat.

“Muwah?” Jack asked. He’d only made such an awkward noise because the floor tilted, and slammed him side-first into the table.

The kitsune huddled closer. And committed more acting sins while they were at it. Jack refrained from rolling his eyes.

“How’s Bunny? Any changes?”

Jack crouched down, and swayed with the floor’s wild bucking. Just like standing on a ship deck at sea, he decided. Complete with mild nausea. “Better. He’s better. The parasite’s dead, the water killed it, but it doesn’t actually heal.” Another bump. Jack swallowed, hard. “But he’s getting better. The doctors all say so. Even Gretchen says so. He should wake up in a week or two.”

Kern hummed and nodded. “The Cup usually only heals that which prevents natural healing. In this case, that was obviously the bacterium. Good. I’m glad. Though he might be sorry to find out we killed the bastard before he woke.” He grinned, all teeth.

Jack grinned at his chief minion. “Oh, I’ll just blame you. Then I’ll soothe his temper. That could be very, very fun.”

The Fortress swayed again. The kitsune actually _whimpered_. Kern glanced at them, and his grin took on a more lecherous cast.

“I think I need to… take these two somewhere more… private, so I can soothe their… worries.”

Jack rolled his eyes. Great. He was going to the Infirmary to sit next to Bunny while his lover slept. Kern was going to get lucky. “Don’t wear each other out now,” he warned. “You’ve got to be at your best when we actually fight the bastard.”

They all chirped in the affirmative as they beat a hasty exit.

Well, Kern was obviously better. He was only up for sex when he was actually healthy; otherwise, he liked to nurse his wounds and beg his lovers for pampering.

Jack had always drawn the line at outfits and hand feeding, but he thought the kitsune were more flexible about that sort of thing.

Ah well. Not his problem anymore. Bunny was.

Jack nodded decisively and made his way to the Infirmary.

The Fortress tilted almost forty-five degrees.

Jack caught his staff as it went flying from the umbrella stand by the door.

“Right,” he muttered. “Totally breaking regs and flying through the halls. Odin can kiss my ass.”

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


**Tuesday, 15 July 2014 -- Command Center, Fortress, near Mount Fuji, Honshu, Japan, 4:19 pm local time**

Kern stepped up next to Jack’s side, where he was staring out the window at the mountain.

“So… did you make that one blow up too?” Kern asked dryly, a smirk playing across his lips as he leaned against the railing.

“Are you ever going to let that go? And no, I didn’t. Wasn’t in the area when it did go.” Which was… Early 1700’s. Had he even been a spirit then? Sometimes the years blurred, now, but he thought he had… just, in America.

Kern bumped shoulders with him. “You’re too fun to tease. And of course you didn’t; even if you’d been a spirit then - which is debatable - you were confining yourself to America, according to what you told me. Besides,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “I know a guy who knows a guy who’s cousins with the guy who _actually_ set that off. Had to put him down, we did. I think that one was Quetza’s job.”

Jack shot a dubious look at Kern. “That sounds like one of those urban legend things. ‘Oh yes, the story is absolutely true, a friend of a friend of a friend’s cousin...’”

Kern pulled back and crossed himself. “Scout’s honor.”

Jack snorted. “You’re pagan. And not a Scout.”

“Rats. I always get those gestures mixed up.”

Raijin appeared at Kern’s side. Did the cervid twitch? “The map’s working. _Finally_.”

Jack smirked. Said in the tone of long-suffering teenagers everywhere, despite the fact that Jack knew, for a fact, that Raijin was older than him.

Raijin should know better; Jack _was_ still kinda-sorta a teenager. Maybe. Ish.

Not the point. But he was secure in the knowledge he could _totally_ have done that better.

“So,” Jack said, and turned towards the view again. “How will we know when we’ve… never mind. That looks… disgusting.”

The ocean looked like it was coated in… scum was the only word that came to mind. It was a dark… gray-brown-black, like an oil slick, but without the charm. Somehow, just somehow, Jack knew that the sludge was dead algae and plankton and other tiny sea-things. Off on the edges of the slick, he could see a few boats working to contain the disaster, and wondered how the humans were explaining things.

Heck, for that matter, how were they keeping their boats afloat in the storm? Some of those waves were as tall as the boats, but most of them were _bigger_.

“Impressive seamanship, wouldn’t you say, _taichou_?” Izanami asked as she stepped up to Jack’s other side. “As Rai said, the map is in working order. Care to have a look?”

Jack gestured at the sludge. “I think reality’s being pretty obvious at the moment. Head to shore, follow the devastation in, right?”

Izanami glanced out the window, frowned, then turned and looked at the map. She hummed. “Guess so, _taichou_.” She straightened, and cracked her neck. Jack cringed at how loud it was. “I’ll go get my things.”

“Doesn’t that _hurt_?”

“Oro?” She tilted her head. “Ah. No. In fact, it feels better now.”

Jack frowned, and looked over at Kern. “Oro? That one’s new.”

Kern smirked. “She’s been watching _Rurouni Kenshin_. The titular character says that often when he’s confused.” He shrugged. “Rai’s reading the manga first. I expect he won’t be far behind in using it.”

“Hey!” Raijin poked Kern in the side.

“Oro,” Jack repeated. “Catchy. Like the Canadian ‘eh’, I guess.” He shrugged, and looked out at the water again. “The sludge is creeping me out. A little,” he admitted.

Kern nodded seriously. “It’s dead things. Plants and animals. I can feel it from here. It’s… unpleasant.” He shivered. “Unnaturally dead things. Just makes it worse.”

Well, if Kern was getting creeped out too… Jack clutched his staff in both hands, and gave mental thanks that Bunny was unconscious, and drugged just enough he’d stay that way. Poor rabbit was even more sensitive to such things than Kern was, he thought, what with being Life and all.

Kern squinted slightly at Jack, tilted his head, and then nodded. “Yes. Good thing he’s out.”

Jack twitched and hit Kern upside the back of the head with his staff. Lightly. “Stop that.”

Kern laughed, and dodged further away. “I bet you if Xiangliu has killed any massive areas of flora, yours is going to be going bonkers trying to fix it all when he’s back up. Hell, he’ll probably find a way to rope me into helping.”

He grinned in response. “Yeah, no doubt. Maybe do something about the ocean, too. It’d be good to. Make sure that this…” He waved at the sludge. “That it clears up as quick as possible.”

“Water? Not my area. You’d have to talk to… what’s that friend of Quetza’s name again?” Kern grunted. “Bah. Not like I can pronounce half the names anyway. Nahuatl is frustrating.”

Jack giggled. “You pronounced ‘Nahuatl’ wrong.”

Kern glared. “Bite me.” Raijin nipped his arm. “Ouch! Not you!”

Raijin grinned unrepentantly. “My mistake.”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, when Odin spoke up from the map table.

“Jack. Come.”

How… imperious. Jack would have normally made a snide remark, but the severe expression on the old man’s face stopped him.

“If you die, so help me, I’ll have your name struck from our records.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow. “And?”

“And have Manny bring you back just so I can kill you.”

Ah. That would be very… unpleasant. “Yes... sir.”

Odin pointed at his eye, then at Jack. “See that you watch yourself. Or else.”

Jack nodded. “Are we prepared?”

Kern cleared his throat, and nodded. “A few minutes to gather our things, but yes.”

Jack nodded again, decisively. “Then let’s get this done. For Bunny.”

Kern and Raijin replied solemnly as they exited the room, off to gather their things.

“For Bunny.”

“It doesn’t work if you’re not serious about it,” Jack whined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "-looks at Major Character Death tag- -looks at characters- -grins- Boss fight!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "*smirks* Is someone going to die soon? Or will it be in the next arc? Or later? Will it be more than one someone? WHO KNOWS?!"


	45. Chapter 45

**Tuesday, 15 July 2014 -- Hachijō-kojima, Izu Archipelago, Philippine Sea, south of Japan, 4:56 pm local time**

“We should’ve gone with the nuclear option,” Jack said. He was pretty sure he couldn’t actually feel the absence of life down below, but pretty sure wasn’t absolutely sure. And anyways, he didn’t need magic to feel absolutely sick about what had happened to Hachijo-kojima.

Kern shook his head, pausing to yelp as the Wind shifted underneath him. “I hate flying.”

The kitsune giggled at him from their places on either side of him; he glared at each of them in turn.

“You and Bunny both,” Jack muttered.

“And we didn’t go with the ‘nuclear option’ because Odin would like to not have to figure out a way to explain an island _disappearing_. It’s a lot of paperwork.”

“Volcano,” Jack suggested. “Blame me. Blah blah. No strike team, just a strike. A final one.”

“This area hasn’t been volcanically active since before… well, lots of things. 1700 BC or something like that?” Kern adjusted his grip on the Wind’s ephemeral feathers. “Besides, it’s also less than five miles from Hachijō-jima, which _is_ populated. It takes time to aim such a precision strike.” He shrugged. “Ergo, us.”

“Ergo, stupid charge into the bad guy’s lair, understrength and not knowing nearly enough about his capabilities.” Jack leaned forward to murmur direction to the Wind. He flew up, just a little, and looked back at Kern. “I feel like I’m in a video game or something. Quick, the dramatic soundtrack!”

Someone - Jack didn’t know _who_ \- started playing fight music from a video game over the earbuds. He glared at the kitsune, but they shrugged and shook their heads ‘no’.

“I don’t know if I’m going to give whoever’s done that punishment duty or a reward,” he said, and looked down at the approaching island. And blinked. “Can stone _rot_?”

Kern look at where Jack indicated, and frowned. “It… can _erode,_ not rot, but that… looks a great deal like _rot_.”

“The hell?” Raijin whispered. Izanami nodded her agreement when the two kitsune shared a look between Kern’s antlers.

If the stone wasn’t rotting, it certainly looked like it. Or maybe that was just a film left over from the dead vegetation. Not that there was any left; just bare earth and bare stone, both of which looked vaguely melty and gross.

There were a few scraggly trees left standing, but the bark was peeling off in layers and - ew.

Just.

_Ewww._

Jack suppressed a shudder - it wasn’t good for his aerodynamics anyway - and flew on, the Wind following in his wake as he circled around the island, looking for any place that’d make a good hideout.

Because, like any supervillain worthy of WINTER, Xiangliu would _of course_ have found a proper lair. It never failed, and Jack was _really_ beginning to wonder where the line between superhero comics and reality actually _was_.

Probably the place where the only people to come back from the dead were, you know, _bad guys_.

Which kind of sucked.

“You don’t count, apparently,” Kern muttered over the earbud.

“Did I say that _out loud_?”

Kern smirked at him. “You usually do, when angry.”

“No, I don’t count, because I wasn’t under the ice that long and - _shut up_ \- it’s Manny’s fault anyways and - _shut up!_ \- and I wasn’t _dead_!”

“Supposedly.” Kern quirked an eyebrow at him, but the expression was ruined when the Wind - unnecessarily - banked. He scrambled to maintain his hold for a few seconds.

Good girl, she was. Jack smirked right back, triumphantly.

“High ground,” Izanami suggested. Jack nodded, and dropped down five hundred feet in the space of a few breaths. It gave him a better view, made Kern yelp, and... there wasn’t really a bad side. Unless, of course, one counted the odd smell rising up from the island, that he could now just pick up. It didn’t smell, exactly, like rot. It smelled like what came after the rot.

Kinda funky, Jack thought, and looked around.

He flew back up, lips pressed together in a grim line. “There’s a Shinto Temple,” he said, once he was close enough. “Looks like it’s tainted.”

Raijin pulled out a spyglass - there really was no other word for it, it looked so old - and examined the indicated site.

And growled, darkly. “He’s defiling it.”

Izanami snatched the spyglass and looked herself. She started growling too, but that cut off abruptly after a few seconds. “Someone’s there. No, scratch that. Some _thing_.” She looked up at Jack. “You’re not going to like this one.”

Jack eyed her warily. “Why?” he drawled, drawing out the vowel.

“It’s got nine heads.”

Nine - “Of course it does. Another Hydra?”

Raijin snatched the spyglass back. He frowned as he looked through it. “I think… no, not a Hydra. It… looks more like the depictions of Xiangliu in the documentation.” He paused, and swallowed. “I think.”

That last statement was said in a tone that indicated he hoped, dearly, that he was wrong.

Jack nodded, and pulled up into a hover. The Wind circled around him, nearest wingtip so close Jack could’ve grabbed hold and let her spin him like a top. Kern groaned in protest. “We’ll have to lure him out of the Shrine,” Jack said. “Then hit him hard.”

The kitsune shared a look, and Izanami shrugged at Raijin.

“You’re better at illusions than I am,” he said simply.

She pouted for a moment, and nodded.

“Can you make me look like a guy?” Jack asked. Izanami eyed him dubiously. “That… what was his name, killed Gong Gong and beat up Xiangliu, the mortal? I can speak Chinese.” Well, he could speak Taiwanese Hokkien, which _was_ Chinese, just not Mandarin or Cantonese.

And hey, period-and-location appropriate. Kinda. Maybe?

Ah, who was he kidding? He _really_ should have read the Chinese mythology and history primer Odin passed out yesterday.

Or had that been last week?

Jack waved the thought off, and looked down at the island. “All the pomp and circumstance,” he said. “That’ll get the guy’s attention, if nothing else.”

Izanami considered his request. “I… am unsure, _taichou_. We only have descriptions of Yu the Great. No pictures. They didn’t consider mortal monster hunters worth documenting properly back then.”

Kern glanced back and forth between them, before looking down. His eyes widened, not that Jack noticed. “Uh, guys-”

“Fine, I’ll shout at him, then if he doesn’t go ‘ _YU THE GREAT, OH NO_ ’ then I’ll claim to be Yu’s son here to slice him up into fish fillets.”

“ _Guys_ -” Kern tried again, but Jack ignored him.

“I mean, what’s worse, old enemy back from the dead - who knows how long he thinks it’s been, anyways? - or son of old enemy -”

Kern leapt off the Wind’s back and tackled Jack, knocking him out of the way of a sickly-looking blob of _something_ that flew through where he’d been a moment before. It took Jack several seconds to steady his flight, now plus one, and they ended up falling a few hundred feet.

Kern screamed the _entire way down_.

And clung like a limpet when Jack brought them into a hover.

“Uh, Kern?”

“...Yeah?” His eyes were closed. “Are we dead yet?”

“...Nooooo,” Jack said slowly. “Actually, we’re about seventy feet off the ground.”

“... Oh. I can jump that.”

“Yes. Yes you can.” Jack dropped to fifty feet, just in case. “You don’t like heights, do you?”

Kern glanced at him gratefully, and let go, dropping to the island’s surface.

“No, no I don’t. I’m in complete and total agreement with Bunnymund on that,” he said as Jack alit on the ground next to him. The Wind swooped down with the kitsune a moment later. “A tall tree is one thing, but _flying_? No. Just… no.”

“You can step into the tree,” Jack pointed out, and looked over at where a… thing… was oozing its way out of the dilapidated Shrine. “I don’t think we need an illusion any more,” he said.

Raijin glanced over, and blanched. “Yeah… no, I don’t think so either. Hey, uh, guys?”

“Yeah?” Jack asked as he readied himself to fight.

“Is it just me, or is that thing - probably Xiangliu, but gods, I hope not - kinda-sorta-maybe snake-like, just… also kinda oozy? And _why_ does it have nine heads?”

The terrain around the creature-probably-Xiangliu darkened as it - he? - crept out of the remains of the shrine. His ooziness slowly solidified as he exited, taking on a texture much more like the hide of a snake - small scales, for his size, at any rate, neatly layered all along his body.

And, yes, nine fucking heads.

“Wonder if he speaks English?” Jack twirled his staff in one hand, and then grinned. A ball of ice, the size of a baseball, formed at the end of it. “Never mind, don’t care.”

He concentrated, and the iceball shot at Xangliu faster than any world-class pitcher could ever throw. Without a bionic arm or two.

One of the heads darted down and caught it between it’s fangs.

Jack frowned. “Not cool, bro.”

The central head lifted up, the better to sneer down at them. _**“You dare!”**_ it roared, in perfect English. The other heads echoed the first, in different languages. One of them sounded Hawaiian. Another sounded like stereotypical Brooklyn, and why would that be its own language anyways?

Several others sounded Chinese - in varying dialects - and there was also what sounded like Japanese. Possibly a few other Asian languages to round things out. Jack didn’t know them, and mentally shrugged off the thought.

“ _ **Cower before my true form!”**_ Xangliu’s body shifted, getting more… drippy, and also bigger. Jack disapproved of bigger. _**“Bow down before the god of death! Darkness will consume you!”**_ One head just laughed maniacally. Not insane at _all_. _**“Only death is eternal! The end of days is finally here!”**_

“Guys, I don’t like this…!” Raijin commented. “He’s getting bigger, solider, and more slimey.”

“More solid,” Kern corrected offhand, as if he corrected the kitsunes’ English every day.

Who knew? Maybe he did. They certainly weren’t considered fully fluent yet, by WINTER’s standards.

“Hadn’t noticed.” Jack hand-signaled to the Wind. “Do you think I’m going to have to pull out the big blizzards?”

The Wind screamed, and dove down to be a very effective distraction. “Kitsune, flank him. Confuse, burn - you still have the gem, even though Odin _told you_ to put it back, right Rai?” He nodded, grinning unrepentantly. Jack nodded and continued. “Good boy - distract, don’t die. Kern, with me; let’s go!”

Jack charged ahead, swinging his staff from side to side. Ice spewed out, freezing the ground, moisture in the air, and more importantly one of Xangliu’s legs. The monster screamed, and pulled free in a spray of ice crystals.

And promptly absorbed his legs back into his body, which lengthened and stretched out, to be more serpent-like. Sort of serpent-like - snakes didn’t have limbs, but if they did, that was what they’d look like.

Bastard.

Jack snarled, and charged.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


As soon as Jack was in front of him, Kern allowed himself to breathe properly. And promptly staggered, though he caught himself.

Not good.

He hadn’t told anyone, but his magical core _wasn’t_ back at one hundred percent. He knew Jack would need him in this fight, and so that’s what he was going to do.

And because he wasn’t fully restored, he was vulnerable to the decaying aura. He could already feel his scalp prickling as fur ever-so-slowly died.

He’d be shedding soon at this rate, which would be a pain in the ass. His two foxes would no doubt laugh over the inevitable bald spots. And the agents on laundry duty would curse his name in seventeen languages.

If he was going to survive intact, they needed to end this quickly. He reached back and fingered the Gáe Bolg. No, not yet; Xiangliu was too… gooey, at the moment. They needed to force him to solidify enough so that he could use it; too soon, and it would do nothing, and take too long to restore to usable condition.

They needed a plan.

Jack fired off more ice and frost, and it was then - with Raijin spraying fire from the gem and Izanami casting distracting illusions at several of the heads - that he noticed the spots that were hit solidified, if only for a moment, before becoming slimier again.

“More!” he called, charging forward. “We need him solid!”

Xiangliu roared, and snapped down at his attackers. If the Wind hadn’t _bitten off_ one of the monster’s _heads_ , someone might even have gotten hurt.

Kern wasn’t the only one who stopped and gawked. Thankfully the monster was distracted and focused on screaming over the insult to take advantage of it.

The stump started wriggling, and oozing outward.

Well, Xiangliu didn’t seem to heal as fast as the Lernean Hydra. And no extra heads; that was something, at least.

Kern reached deep into the earth, feeling for any plant life at all, but all he could find were seeds. It’d tire him greatly - and expend a lot of his stored energy - to use them. Best to save that for emergencies, if at all.

He settled for picking up large boulders and hurling them at the creature.

That distracted it more, which allowed Izanami to dart in and slice at Xiangliu’s chest-type-area.

Or not. Shit!

“Izanami!” Raijin and Kern called out in unison.

She barely dodged the snapping jaws in time, though it grazed her calf. Her bright red blood darkened her fur and glittered in the sunlight. She flicked several more illusions at the creature and retreated to a safe distance.

Kern dashed over to check on her while Jack and Raijin renewed their ranged assaults.

“I am fine, my heart,” she murmured. “It is only a small cut.”

“Small, my furry arse.” He carefully peeled back the fur, and winced. “You’re bleeding quite a bit.”

“And you are quoting Bunnymund.” Izanami pulled out a rolled bandage from a belt pouch, and began wrapping her calf. “Go. They need you.”

He kissed her forehead, and darted off. He snagged several more medium-sized boulders - _Why_ were there so many here? Had Xiangliu passed the time shattering rocks or something? - and flung them at Xiangliu from multiple angles. They actually impacted with a muted thump, rather than the usual squelch they’d been hearing the whole time.

“It’s working!” he declared to the others. “Keep it up!”

Raijin jumped to the side, dodging a head or three - and right into a tail slap. His tiny body went sailing several dozen feet across the rock-strewn field in front of the ruined Shrine, impacting against a dead tree, which snapped off from the force. Kern stumbled as he scrambled over the gravel and rocks to his other mate’s side.

He picked him up and carefully examined him. “Rai? Rai!”

The kitsune twitched after a moment, and gasped. “Ow.”

“Idiot. What were you doing so close?”

Raijin shook his head, as if to clear it, and coughed several times. No blood came out of his mouth; that was something. But one of his ribs looked broken. “You shouldn’t move, you know.”

“You need me!”

Kern sighed, and placed his hand against the rib. Raijin groaned as Kern infused a bit of his magic into the bone, causing it to knit together.

“There. Not a complete job, but it’s now more cracked than broken. _Be careful_.” He helped Raijin stand up. “You’re lucky that was the only thing that broke.” He did not mention the bruises, or the cut scalp. Or scrapes from the tree. “Pay more attention, yeah?”

Raijin nodded, and took off, at a slight limp, and renewed his fire attacks.

Kern shifted to a fully standing position, and glanced at Jack. He was keeping Xiangliu quite busy with his ice and frost, both directed attacks and terrain effects, while the Wind was continuing to dart around and amongst the heads, occasionally cutting another off, though they were growing back quickly enough that she was making very slow progress. Still, they were down to only seven full heads at the moment.

He shifted to step forward, and heard a crack from above his head. He paused, and reached up.

One of the tines of his antlers broke off. It felt quite brittle and crumbled into fragments even as he looked at it. And then he noticed that his normally brown-and-faun fur was starting to go grey, all over.

“Well, shit.”

And the view out of his left eye was beginning to go foggy; cataracts, or something like it. It didn’t matter the cause, not now, only the result. And the result was limited vision on the left. In the middle of a deadly fight.

Putting aside his growing physical disability - and resolutely ignoring when another tine just fell off - he stepped forward to assist the others, and didn’t immediately notice Jack flying towards him.

That is to say, having been smacked out of the air. In his direction. From his left, naturally.

“Jack!” he called, just seconds before Jack hit him. They fell to the ground, and there was a sudden pain in his head. Kern bellowed and clapped both hands to the wound. He felt a stub where there should have been an antler, and a little blood.

“Gods fucking damnit,” he snarled, and shoved Jack to the side before his Regent had gathered himself. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to grow those fucking things? And now I’m uneven!”

Somehow, that was worse than feeling the weight of his antlers all the time. He kept wanting to list sideways.

Not that it was going to matter, at this rate.

He rolled over, ignoring his own pain, to check on Jack. “Are you okay?”

Jack shifted, and groaned, favoring one leg. “I think it’s broken.”

Kern checked. Yep. In two places. “Damn it. Hold still.”

He placed both hands on Jack’s leg - one on each break - and squeezed down as he infused energy into the bones. Jack shouted wordlessly in surprise, but it was over in a moment.

The Wind landed on the ground, and hunched over Jack, wings mantled and feathery hackles bristling.

“There. Not fixed fully, not yet. No time, but that should hold until we can get back to the Fortress.” He nodded decisively - abortively, because of his lopsided antlers - and stood. He stumbled slightly, but the Wind caught him with one wing.

Kern and the Wind shared a glance. She knew.

The wild things usually did.

He pat her on the head and thanked her.

And then he stepped forward, drawing the Spear of Cúchulainn.

“ _Alright, ye bleeding arsehole,”_ he said, in the tongue of his childhood. _“Time for ye and me ta have ourselves a wee little_ chat _.”_

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


Kern looked funny. Jack rubbed at his eyes, but nope, Kern still looked funny. Gray and white all over, like the kitsune had dumped flour on him again. And he’d lost an antler. And the other one was falling apart as Jack watched, which… probably wasn’t due to the concussion Jack had.

What the heck was going on here?

“Kern?” he called, but his friend didn’t turn around. Just kept walking, even when one leg seemingly refused to work properly anymore, the knee locking up so he had to swing his leg forward from the hip.

Raijin and Izanami appeared at Jack’s side.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked plaintively.

“I’m going after him,” Raijin declared.

Kern shouted over his shoulder. “ _ **Stay.**_ ”

Raijin actually sat down, looking shocked.

“ _Daimyo_ , you must not -” Izanami gasped, and pressed one hand to her mouth. She was crying, Jack realized. Why was she crying?

What was Kern up to?

He must have said that out loud, because Raijin choked out, “He’s… he’s expending all his stored power, _taichou_. He’s dying.”

Kern was shouting in some old Celtic language at the monster - who looked completely incensed at the taunts, so whatever he was saying was working - but his brain cut off at that moment, as he fully registered what Raijin had said.

“Wait, _what_?”

“The world cannot support him as a god anymore,” the Kitsune said, sounding as choked up as Izanami. Maybe more, since Raijin wouldn’t let himself cry in public. “Not here. Not now. Not like this.”

Kern drew the strange, oversized bone spear he’d been carrying around the last several days and braced himself as Xiangliu charged, all - currently - eight heads lining up for the attack.

Kern bellowed wordlessly, and the ground shook, young plants growing all around them at a breathtaking pace, despite the aura of decay Xiangliu projected. A few curled up and caressed each kitsune on the cheek gently, wiping at their tears.

And then Xiangliu impacted against the spear, and bit down. Kern disappeared in the flurry of limbs and screaming.

Was Jack screaming too?

And then what seemed like thousands of shards of bone spiked out of Xiangliu’s body, from every surface, every scale, and every angle. The creature started to scream, an oddly disharmonic sound from so many mouths, but the sound cut off as abruptly as it started.

Xiangliu slumped against the bones, which were now the only thing holding it up.

Kern lay on the ground beneath the heads, bleeding profusely from dozens and dozens of holes.

Raijin moaned, and curled forward around his knees. “He told me _stay_ ,” he whimpered.

Jack stood up, and tested his leg. At least he had a staff. “Now I’m telling you to come. Let’s go.”

They scrambled over and pulled him out from under the corpse of the monster. Jack pulled Kern’s head into his lap, and each kitsune took one hand in theirs. Kern was gasping faintly still, and slightly opened his eyes, glancing slowly between them.

He thought about calling for medical evac. And then he looked at Kern’s wounds.

It wouldn’t matter.

“Is… it…?” Kern whispered, and coughed.

“Dead,” Izanami said. She lifted Kern’s hand to her cheek, and nuzzled at his wrist. She said something in Japanese that Jack didn’t try listening to or translating.

Raijin repeated the action, and the words.

Kern smiled faintly, and breathed out.

He didn’t breathe back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: -mad cackling-
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "For the record, that chapter _hurt_ to write."


	46. Chapter 46

**Thursday, 24 July 2014 -- Infirmary, Fortress, near Mount Fuji, Honshu, Japan, 6:52 am local time**

Whoever was responsible for that bloody annoying noise was going to get socked in the face, Aster decided. At least, he thought he decided… His brain refused to work properly, and everything seemed to need to force its way through treacle in order to reach his awareness. Like the way that annoying sound just kept going on and on. Beep after beep after familiar beep.

After what felt like eternity, he managed to wonder who was in the medical wing _this_ time. Jack? Probably Jack, idiot just kept throwing himself at brick walls and wondering why he splattered…

Aster opened his eyes, after some struggling. Why was he so bloody _tired_?

One glance around and he realized it was _he_ who was hospitalized, and that the sound was his heart monitors. And… a bit of running around in circles in his head, and he vaguely recalled getting really, really ill, and passing out.

How long had he been out?

And… Oh. There was Jack. He smiled, rather vaguely, at his sleeping mate. Something’d been up; Jack was wearing his uniform, the one that clung to every line of his body. Aster hummed, and admired the resulting profile; mostly turned toward him, far shoulder hidden by the rest of the body, just one long stretch of lithe muscle covered by spelled leather.

His groin muscles tightened vaguely, but otherwise didn’t react. What the hell did they have him _on_? He was reacting very sluggishly, and it was getting annoying. Fast.

There was an IV line within reach, if he could move his hands enough. It was very tempting to just tie a knot in the tube, block the drugs, but… was he ill, or injured? And would there be screaming pain just a few minutes after the drugs stopped flowing?

He’d just decided to wake Jack when the Infirmary doors opened, admitting the two kitsune.

Who were wearing full-black kimonos.

That was very worrisome.

Before he could get his tongue to cooperate, they noticed him looking at them. They rushed over.

“Bunnymund-sama, you are awake?” Raijin exclaimed softly, probably in deference to the still-sleeping Jack.

“Think so,” he said thickly, around a tongue that refused to cooperate properly. “C’n y’ wake him fer me?”

He coughed, weakly, as he spoke the last word. Gah. Stupid tongue, failing on him after only a few words. Stupid throat, dryer than a desert. Maybe he could get one of the-

Izanami held up a small glass of water. Nice sheila, she was.

Aster dutifully, and carefully, took a few sips.

“Better?” she asked softly.

Aster nodded. “Thanks mate.”

“Shall I wake him now, Bunnymund-sama?” Raijin asked quietly, from his new position next to Jack.

He nodded again, not quite trusting his voice just yet. He carefully took a few more sips when Izanami proffered the glass again.

Raijin gently shook Jack’s shoulder. “ _Taichou!_ _Taichou!_ Jack, Bunnymund-sama is awake!”

Jack snorted, but a few more quiet entreaties got him to open his eyes. He looked… terrible. He was as white as bone china before the painting, except for where he had dark purple smudges beneath each eye. His eyes were puffy and swollen; from crying, and probably not from black eyes, but with Jack, who knew?

“Hey there, mate,” he said, and smiled faintly.

Jack tensed and lunged, but aborted it halfway through. He clutched the low bedside rail with a hand that looked bloodless, and cupped Aster’s cheek with the other. His fingers were very cold. More so than usual.

“Hey, sorry about that… healers haven’t cleared you for rib-crackers yet.”

Aster snorted - abortively, given that his nose didn’t quite like that action - reached over, carefully, because it required a fair amount of concentration, and tugged on Jack’s arm. “C’mere. I don’t bloody well care what they have to say; I miss you.”

“But,” Jack started, and then he must’ve moved faster than Aster could track at the moment, because he had an armful of quietly sobbing Jack, who was getting his chest fur all wet. Ah well, he’d dry.

And, if his suspicions were true, Jack was really strung out for more than just Aster’s illness. He glanced over at the kitsune.

“Hey, Raijin. How long’ve I been out?” he asked softly, very slowly petting Jack as he bawled against his chest.

“It has been…” Raijin attempted a smile. “Some weeks. We found a cure, though! And… fought an enemy.”

“Did you win?” he asked, pointedly eyeing the kimonos. “I know what those usually mean.”

Raijin froze, and teared up a bit. “I, ah… yes.”

Jack snuffled, and lifted his head. “Kern,” he said, almost as thickly as Aster was talking. “He…!”

He glanced from Jack back up to the hovering kitsune, who look abruptly - understandably - as upset as Jack, if not more so. He opened his arms wide, as best he could. “C’mere, you two. You look like you need it.”

“We would not wish to presume,” Izanami whispered, though she swayed towards the bed.

“I insist,” he affirmed, and smiled faintly. Jack, he was pleased to note, despite crying, shifted slightly over to make room.

If they didn’t leap on him, it was likely due only to his being in the hospital bed. In short order he had two kitsune curled up against-and-on him; Raijin still looked mostly humanoid, but Izanami had shifted entirely fox, kimono dropping to the ground, and curled up on his legs. They were both studies in abject misery, and he did his best to comfort them wordlessly.

It took a while for everyone to calm down. He supposed it was the drugs, but the news wasn’t hitting him as hard as it should have. His emotions felt a bit… muted. Probably some sort of pain medication. Or something.

He did notice Gretchen glance over, look alarmed for a moment before sobering, and then quietly close her door to give them some privacy. Despite Jack’s dislike for her, Aster had found her to generally be a good nurse.

She was just a bit rough around the edges. Much like the three seeking comfort with him.

He was just glad that they, at least, were okay. For the moment, anyway; he’d worry about what had happened when his head was clearer.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jack asked. Kern was still laid out in state in the viewing room, for the other Agents, and the spirits affiliated with WINTER, to come to the extended viewing. Jack had argued against that; he’d wanted to get this part over and done with, because it felt like it was drawing everything out… but now he was obscurely glad Bunny would get a chance to say goodbye.

He thought Bunny and Kern had been friends. Friendly, anyways.

Bunny grunted when the wheelchair came to a stop outside the viewing room. “Hate these things. Raijin, hold it steady for a mo’, would you? Jack, help me up. And yes, I’m sure.”

“Gretchen said-” Jack started, but Bunny interrupted him.

“When have you _ever_ listened to her?”

Jack raised one eyebrow, and sighed. “Good point, I guess… lean on me? Just in case?”

Aster nodded, conceding the point, and Izanami and Jack helped him stand while Raijin kept the wheelchair at first steady, and then out of the way. “I’m not walking back, though; don’t think my legs can handle standing for more than few.” He gestured weakly at the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Izanami let go of Bunny once she seemed sure Jack wouldn’t drop him, and the kitsune opened the door. “We don’t want to go in again,” she said. “I-”

Bunny shook his head, and reached out to ruffle her fur between her ears. “I understand. It’s normal. No worries, mate.”

“Yeah, Izanami,” Jack said. “We get it.” He took a deep breath. He didn’t want to go in there again either, but… well.

In an odd way, looking at Kern, still looking the way he’d died, was… a fitting punishment. And Jack was fully aware he didn’t need or deserve punishment, but - he still had Bunny. And his Shepherds had lost Kern. It wasn’t right, and it didn’t seem fair, and just because he couldn’t figure out just where he’d made the mistake that let Kern die didn’t mean it wasn’t there, so -

Yeah. Fitting punishment.

Bunny jerked in Jack’s hold as soon as he caught sight of Kern’s body, and stumbled. He would have fallen, if not for Jack’s grip on his arm and waist. He was staring at the body as if it had grown feathers and was trying to fly off.

“I know,” Jack said, and swallowed around the lump in his throat. “He used to complain about his antlers, you know? How heavy they were, and how he had to twist to get through doors…” And now Kern’d lost his antlers. He looked so small without them...

Bunny steadied himself, and glanced back at the closed doors, frowning. Probably thinking about how hard the kitsune were taking this, no doubt. He glanced back and forth a few times, before seeming to steel himself.

“Help me forward?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.” Thankfully there weren’t any other viewers in the room; someone had thoughtfully ensured the room would be empty. Jack moved slowly so Bunny could keep his balance, but they got to Kern’s - the body’s - side too soon for his comfort.

Aster reached out and gently laid his paw on Kern’s chest. It looked so small, against the unmoving body. Bunny seemed to quietly concentrate for several moments, before withdrawing his hand. His lips had moved silently the whole time. Jack idly wondered what he’d said, but didn’t pry.

“I’ve seen enough,” Bunny said quietly. “And I’m about to fall down. Get me back to that blasted chair, love?”

Jack nodded, smiling faintly at the endearment. “Sure thing, Bun-Bun.”

When they got back to the door, Jack tapped with his free hand, and it opened silently. Raijin peeked around the corner to verify where they were, while Izanami presented the chair. Both studiously avoided looking into the room proper.

Once Bunny was settled in the chair, he gestured for the kitsune to stand in front of him next to Jack.

“What is it, Bunnymund-sama?” Raijin inquired after a moment of silence while Bunny adjusted his seat.

“You lot got a WINTER graveyard? Or did he -” he gestured to the closed doors, “- express a wish to be buried anywhere particular? Cremated or what have you?”

Raijin stiffened slightly, but shook his head. “There was no outstanding will, nor any mention of… of arrangements.”

“I’m offering the Warren.” Bunny took a deep breath, and rubbed at his thigh. Jack winced; sure, Bunny was being blunt, but that was probably due to some pain… “That grove y’ liked so much. Figured…. Well. Figured I’d throw that out there for you.”

Jack suppressed a laugh at the enthusiastic hug the kitsune wrapped Aster in nary a second after he’d finished speaking.

Bunny chuffed a soft laugh as he wrapped his arms around them. “I take it you like that idea?”

They nodded silently, eyes going suspiciously misty.

Jack cleared his throat to get their attention before the waterworks started up again. Or he’d end up bawling too, in all likelihood. “I’ll inform Odin. _After_ we get Little Bunny Foo-Foo back to the Infirmary. Before Gretchen takes our heads.”

And nailed them to the infirmary door, above a sign saying “Fear my Wrath” or something. She was definitely the type.

Aster glared weakly at the nick-name, with an expression that said Jack’d pay for it later.

He was looking forward to it.

Of course, first he had to warn Aster… Right. How did he bring that up? Casually, of course. “So. Seen the other Guardians lately?”

All three of them looked at him like he was crazy. Oh, right. Duh. Aster’d been unconscious for the last … however long it was. Jack didn’t like to think about it, and had already banished the incident from his mind. Oops.

“Just answer the question, Cottontail. It’s relevant. I promise.” Well, sort of. As a lead-in to relevancy, anyways.

He frowned. “Last time I saw any of them, North was being a nutter ‘round the Workshop. That was before… well, _before_. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve seen them a lot more recently. And they’ve seen you a lot more recently. Gretchen let them in to yell at me.” Jack pushed the wheelchair, very slowly, down the hall. Very slowly. Like, maybe, not actually moving. At all.

Not that he was reluctant to return to the Infirmary and possible-yelling or anything...

Aster frowned again. “Why were they yelling at you? And… if North was yelling, I must have been _really_ out of it on those drugs. He could wake the dea-- ah, um…” His ears flicked downward in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“He woke Frank,” Jack said direly. And then cleared his throat, looking over at the kitsune. They smiled back, little pained curves of their lips, but at least they weren’t holding a common phrase against the two of them. “So, yeah, you were out. And they were angry.”

“Why?”

Raijin and Izanami carefully schooled their expressions into ones of nonchalance and serenity, and they peered at Jack inquiringly when he glanced at them for help. Cowards, making him do all the work.

“So. Maybe. We might have forgotten to keep them in the loop. About the Bad Things making trouble.” Jack cleared his throat. “Y’know. A little.”

“... Jack,” Aster said slowly, after a moment’s consideration. “When did they find out I was hospitalized?”

“Quetza’s fault. He told Tooth. Tooth told everyone. Everyone yelled at me.” He pushed the wheelchair forward three steps, and then retreated five. “Maybe almost immediately after the fight, during the first day of, well, funeral.”

Aster scrunched his eyes, and his hand twitched like it wanted to travel up and pinch the bridge of his nose. It didn’t, but only because, as far as Jack could tell, the Pooka’d worn himself out with that little standing stunt.

Right. Whether he wanted to or not, he had to return Bunny to the Infirmary. Hopefully, they didn’t have any ‘guests’ waiting for them.

He thought about asking Izanami, or Raijin, to duck ahead and check, but… no.

“Right,” he muttered. “Into the breech.”

His hopes were dashed when they rounded the corner to the Infirmary.

There were three angry Guardians waiting for them.

“Eep” was his succinct expression of his feeling of utter terror.

“Y’r in for it now, love,” Aster muttered, snickering at him.

“Like I’m letting you get away without some of the blame?” he muttered back. Jack straightened his shoulders, and contemplated shoving his beloved Pooka forward at the Guardians, and bolting the other way.

Aster glanced up at him. “Unconscious, mate. And was sick. So many ‘free passes’, as you would say, I can get away with _anything_.”

“Except for the part where you were helping out with super-storm and didn’t tell the others, because children,” Jack pointed out.

Aster reached up, slowly, and tapped his head. “ _Memory_ sickness.”

And stuck his tongue out at Jack.

Jack gaped, but was prevented from replying by North speaking.

“There they are!” he exclaimed grandly. Or was it darkly? “Was wondering where you’d absconded with our dear, _dear_ Easter Bunny. Now Jack…”

Jack gulped, and nodded warily.

“Is time for brass tacks again, I think.” And he cracked his knuckles.

“Eep.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Saturday, 26 July 2014 -- Kern’s Grove, Warren, 2:34 pm local time**

The naginata was a handy weapon. The fact that he was using it as a cane had no bearing on the fact that it was a weapon first, last, and always. He was just tired, was all; spending a couple weeks flat on his back in the Infirmary hadn’t done his muscles any good, though he was recovering faster than anyone seemed to expect.

They always forgot he was a shapeshifter, and that shapeshifters always healed, as Jack would say, ‘stupid fast.’

It was a small service; Aster wasn’t about to tolerate too many people in his Warren, and most of the mourners had done their thing over the viewing. For the actual burial, apart from himself and Jack, and the two kitsune, were the other three Guardians and their Guards, Anika - who had shown up with North, with small gifts for the kitsune that she said were traditionally given to widows and widowers - Odin, and the Wind.

A tolerable number, though Aster couldn’t wait to kick most of them to the curb. The damn bird first, for preference, though Jack seemed to be taking some comfort from the Wind’s presence. At least she was good for something besides eating monsters.

When the short service ended, and the body was buried, Aster shooed off most of the crowd, leaving only Jack, the kitsune, and himself. Which was when the ground started rumbling faintly.

Jack half-tripped and only caught himself because of his staff. “What’s-”

The dirt over the grave started piling up, like a gopher was pushing to the surface-

Or a tiny shoot of a sapling.

Aster’s shoulders slumped, and he hoped no one noticed. He’d hoped… well, this explained that, then. Good enough, and a nice thing to remember Kern by, even if he had to wonder why an _oak_.

The sapling kept growing, until it was a thin little nothing of a tree; nearly two feet tall, and maybe an inch or two in diameter, and greener than the grass.

“Look, _taichou_ ,” Raijin said. He pointed at the tree, smiling faintly. “Finally, something shorter than you.”

Izanami started giggling, and Aster soon joined her. Jack frowned severely.

“Kern’s last joke, from the grave no less!” Raijin continued, giggling.

Jack glared at him. “I see how it is.”

“Yes, mate,” Aster said, and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re short.”

Jack glared at him, but he hobbled over and claimed Jack in a hug, chinning the top of his head. “I like it that way though. You fit.”

“And I can still pick you up,” Jack muttered, and pulled away. He slanted a look towards the two kitsune, who were ignoring them with a deliberateness that hurt to watch. “C’mon guys. Let’s get some food into you two.”

“We really shouldn’t impose-” Izanami started, but Aster cut her off.

“Actually, I have something for you two back at the burrow anyway, so come along. We can eat, then I’ll show you.”

The two kitsune shared a tired look, and then agreed quietly. Thankfully none of them were feeling too active, since everyone kept pace with the slowest member - Aster. Not that he was feeling bitter about that or anything.

Also thankfully, the grove wasn’t too far from the burrow. It didn’t take long, even at Aster’s slow pace, to reach their destination.

Jack made the kitsune cart in a cushy chair from the living room, and place it at the head of the table. Then he made Aster sit, and started making food. He wasn’t quite up for anything complex, but the kitsune didn’t complain when Jack whipped up a salad, with shredded chicken on the side, in deference to Aster.

“Right,” Aster said, and started in on the salad. The more he ate, the faster he’d heal. “Got an offer for you two.”

They continued eating, but both flicked their gazes, and their ears, at him. He suppressed a grin; apparently food trumped good manners, at least today.

“Now, I know things are going to be hard for you two for a while - probably a long while, if my experience is any judge - and I wanted you two to know that you’re welcome here, in the burrow, whenever you want to be.”

Jack’s eyebrows nearly crawled into his hair, and he started ticking off his fingers. Probably counting how many people had unlimited access to the Warren. “You’ve got too many there,” he said in an aside, making the young man jump. “The other Guardians don’t.”

Jack looked down at his fingers, and slowly lowered three fingers. Leaving him with one. After a glance to the kitsune, he added two, and wrinkled his nose.

“Really? Bunny, we need to talk about your anti-social habits here.”

He grunted at Jack, and waved him off with a gesture of his fork. “Nevermind that. What they think about it is more important.” He looked over at the kitsune, both of whom were staring at him. “Well?”

“It… is an honor, that you offer us this access,” Raijin said.

Jack muttered something that sounded like “we already had it” but Aster chose to ignore him. For the moment.

Raijin flicked a piece of chicken at Jack. It hit him squarely on the nose, which wrinkled adorably in response. “It’s one thing to just waltz in _without_ permission, _taichou_ , and quite another to do so _with_.”

“Wait, what?” Aster said darkly. “Go back about waltzing in without permission, if you would…?”

Izanami giggled. “You should know Jack was the one assigned to watch you, before you became friends, and… anyway. And he followed you _everywhere_.”

Jack muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “traitors.”

Bunny narrowed his eyes at Jack. “We’ll talk later.” Jack did his best to look repentant, but it was clearly a failing effort if the smirk meant anything. “Anyways. Back to you two.”

They blinked. “There’s more?” Raijin asked, surprise coloring his voice.

Aster polished off his salad, and groped for the naginata.

“Uh uh, no weapons. Rai, grab my staff; it’s over by the door. Bunny can use that,” Jack said, taking the naginata out of reach.

The two kitsune shot Jack surprised looks, that transformed into understanding smirks. Izanami got up and fetched the staff, bopping Jack over the head with it, before handing it to Aster.

He mock-glared at her. “You get one free bop. Next one, it’s the Closet. Archiving duty.”

Aster stood up, leaning on the staff. “Follow me. Stay outta my closet.”

Jack poked him in the side as he took up a flanking position to his right. “You’re the one who started drawing up lists of punishment details organizing it, Cottontail. Remember?”

Aster paused, and looked at Jack. And then grinned. “Yeah, I do.”

Jack snickered, and the three WINTER agents followed him down to a new door. Jack did an impressive double take, and then started squinting, muttering, and turning around in circles, the better to peer at other doors to either side. Aster ignored him.

“You two,” he said, and pointed at the foxes. “This is yours. If you want it.”

He tapped the door once, with his paw, and it creaked open, revealing a small sitting room, with a several chairs, couches, and bean bags scattered about. Rugs of all shapes and sizes were thrown, seemingly careless, across the floor, in an approximate circle under and around all the seating. There was a fireplace, though Aster expected they’d never figure out how it vented the smoke, and two additional doors on the far wall. There were several Japanese decorations scattered about, and he’d pulled out just about every wall scroll he’d owned, arranging them tastefully around the periphery of the room. Some were older than Jack, Raijin, and Izanami, combined.

Raijin was the first to step through the door and look around, though Izanami was right on his tail, almost literally. They both glanced back at him, and he nodded.

Permission to explore secured, they bounded in, gaping and gasping in turn at the contents of the room.

Jack wrapped an arm around his waist, and tugged until he was leaning sideways on the smaller man’s shoulder. “That was nice of you,” he said. “Want them to live here, huh?”

Aster’s ears drooped slightly, and he felt his face flush, even if it wasn’t visible beneath his fur. “Well. They’ve kinda grown on me. I say we adopt.” He winked at Jack’s gobsmacked expression. “I mean, they’re here all the time anyway, and I think it’ll do them some good.”

Raijin opened one of the doors. “It’s a bedroom!” he exclaimed.

Izanami dashed to the other door. “And a washroom! Oh, look at the tile!”

Jack gazed at him suspiciously. “How’d you do it?”

Aster gazed back. Innocently, or his best approximation of it. “My googies are surprisingly good builders, I’ll have you know.”

“Well, if you’re not going to tell me, _fine_. You don’t have to make something up.” Jack pouted, and snuggled closer. “Jerk.”

“I’m serious! They just finished it up while we were eating!”

“Liar, liar, your pants are on fire. I have to run and get the extinguisher before the entire bedroom goes.”

A little googie peeked around the doorframe. Seeing that the coast was clear, it ran off.

It was wearing a hard hat.

Aster quirked an eyebrow meaningfully at Jack.

Jack pursed his lips. “I maintain that you’re a lying liar who lies. And you set that up.”

He shrugged, and grinned as another round of exclamations sounded from within the room. “I’ll let you watch next time. You’ll see who’s on fire then.”

Jack was saved from replying by the reappearance of the two kitsune, who were staring at Aster in wonder. It was good to see them happy again, he decided.

“Well? Does it meet your needs? Or did I forget something?” he asked.

Sorrow flickered in the back of their eyes - no doubt they were thinking of the one thing they were missing - but they shook their heads and moved forward. “Thank you,” Raijin murmured. Izanami just tucked herself under his one arm, and held tight. Raijin claimed the other side after a moment’s hesitation.

Jack stood off to the side, grinning at him.

“What?” he asked after a moment.

Jack’s grin turned smug. “I think you already adopted them.”

Aster’s expression turned sly. “Well… I suppose so.” He pet their heads. “I guess that makes you the mother.”

Jack’s infuriated expression was just as good as the kitsune’s laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Everybody coo over the kitsune now."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Feels. And happy's. There, they've 'officially' adopted the Kitsune. No getting rid of them now!"
> 
> Corgi's Continued Barking: "So, for those that don't follow my Tumblr, or missed it, my computer committed seppuku last night. Great dishonor, only option. It is dead. [Damaged CPU, for the record] SO, I will be restricted to my phone for most of the next month or so [that it takes wife and I to save for the last few parts we need to make the replacement we'd been working on], and borrowing a computer to write when I can. I'll keep people updated on the status of my replacement as it's relevant."


	47. Chapter 47

**Saturday, 26 July 2014 -- Burrow, Warren, 7:12 pm local time**

“Now my stomach hurts,” Jack whined, rubbing at that portion of his anatomy pointedly. He pouted, and stared up at Aster. “Why’d you have to… Izanami? Raijin?”

Aster glanced over to where the two kitsune were standing at the entrance to the hallway. They glanced at him, but he nodded in understanding. They were still grieving after all, and appeared glad to take advantage of the little apartment he’d fashioned them to be alone when they felt they needed it.

Raijin cleared his throat, and gestured weakly between them at Jack. It took him a moment, but a look of dawning comprehension came over his face. He nodded too.

“Sorry, guys,” he said quietly. “You go on. We’ll scream if we need help.”

They smiled gratefully, bowed slightly, and disappeared down the hall. The door closed firmly a moment later.

Jack immediately went back to whining, probably to distract them from the somber moment.

“Aren’t you listening to me?” Jack pushed up against Aster’s side, and caught up a handful of chest fur. “I’m in pain, and it’s all your fault.”

He snorted. “Right. Because I force fed you the last piece of triple chocolate cake.”

“May as well have,” Jack muttered, and started rubbing his cheek against Aster’s fur. “Why do you have to be such a good cook, anyways?”

Aster smiled softly, and pet Jack’s hair. “Because it was something to do at the time. I _have_ had millenia alone, and good food is better than bland.”

He swept Jack up into a bridal carry, eliciting a squeak of surprise, and deposited them in a pile on the largest of the sofas in the living room.

“Argh, _nooo_ , get off me. No pressure on the stomach, I swear, I’ll puke.” Jack shoved at his shoulders, and managed to get them twisted about until Aster was on the bottom, Jack on the top. It was somewhat amusing, Aster thought, that Jack apparently didn’t mind being pressed chest-and-stomach to his mate, so long as he wasn’t on the bottom. So much for his dire prediction of puking.

He shifted his hips meaningfully. “Any reason for the position, or just feeling cuddly?”

Jack smirked, and, from the wiggling, was apparently trying to make himself weigh more. “I’ve got you pinned. Now you’re my prisoner. I can do whatever I want to you. Muwahahahahaha.”

“Oh woe is me, whatever will I do?” Aster deadpanned.

“You could always shut up and take it,” Jack suggested. “It’d be a novel approach.”

He licked Jack’s nose instead.

“Funny, Cottontail. Very funny.” Jack folded his arms across Aster’s chest, and rested his chin on his arms. “So, I know I’ve asked this before, but… do you want me to ask you about marriage?”

Aster quirked an eyebrow. Jack giggled. He rolled his eyes, and said, “Again? What is it with you and marriage? We’re spirits! We can wait a while.”

“I know, I know! But with what’s just happened… I don’t know, Cottontail, it’s just been on my mind lately. I mean, medically speaking, as your Guard and all, I get access to everything, but if I ever get reassigned…”

“I don’t think Odin’d ever be that cruel. It may not always look it, but you’re the favorite grandchild. He wouldn’t want to truly make you unhappy.” Aster smirked. “Annoy you, sure, but not unhappy.”

“I guess.” Jack sighed, his breath ruffling the fur at Aster’s throat. “So, that’s a no, you don’t want or need me to ask or anything. And… kids? I mean, now’s really not a good time, with everything going on, but… later? When things calm down? Because I think I’d like them... with you, I mean. Obviously.”

Aster sighed contentedly, and began petting Jack’s hair again. “That… might be nice. In… a century or two. When things calm down. Maybe.”

“A century or two!” Jack pushed himself up onto his very pointy and somewhat painful elbows, which just so happened to dig into Aster’s ribs. “ _A century or two!_ ”

Aster started laughing at Jack’s outrage, unable to keep a straight face anymore. “Gotcha, mate.”

Jack huffed, and tapped him on the nose. “Jerk! You absolute jerk! Making me - I thought you were serious! I’m only _three centuries old_ , Bunny, that long would feel like forever still!”

He tapped Jack on the nose in return. “I know. It’s why I said it. You’ve got a bad habit of impatience, love.” He sobered after a few more seconds of chuckling. “Right. More seriously. Maybe a decade. Just to be safe, and for me to be absolutely sure things’ll work between us. Compatible genetics doesn’t mean compatible babies and birthing. It’ll take time, and study, to ensure the safety of everyone involved.”

“I have seen some dog crossbreeding horror stories,” Jack pointed out. “And they’re the same species, when you get down to it. We’re not. Just… why’d you have to go with centuries? And are we going to get married before you get knocked up….”

Jack clenched his eyes shut, and shook his head. “Sorry, just had a ‘what the fucking hell?’ moment. I’m better now.”

He pat Jack on the head a few times. “It’s alright. Never dated a shapeshifter before, eh?”

“Bunny, before you, it was Kern.” He sighed. “Kern’s… he wasn’t a shapeshifter. So yeah, no, never dated a shapeshifter. It’s kind of _occasionally_ mind-breaking.”

Aster nodded. “I suppose so. I remember, back when I first met Koz, he had about the same reaction when he found out we could change out our equipment on a whim.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Koz _who_? Former boyfriend? Do I need to kill this guy?”

He snorted. “No. He’s currently languishing in your dungeon, anyway, so not like there’s much more you can do.”

“Huh? You’d be surprised, Cottontail, I can get real inventive with the frostbite and… my dungeon? I don’t have a dungeon. I don’t think.” He paused, and appeared to be wracking his brain, before muttering softly, “ _Do_ I have a dungeon?”

“Fortress.” He shrugged, awkwardly, beneath Jack’s weight, slight though it might be. “Doesn’t matter. Koz is gone. He’s a… different man, these days.”

Jack frowned, obviously in thought. When he spoke next, just as obviously, he’d missed the point. “He’d have to be, to change from someone you’d talk to into someone kept in WINTER’s prison. Did he change his name, too?”

Aster flicked Jack’s nose. “Kozmotis _Pitchiner_ , dummy. Never read his file, have you?”

“Pitchiner… _Pitch_? Our Pitch? Only not ours, because ew, I refuse ownership… what file?”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” Aster said, shaking his head. “Back before… well, _before_ , Pitch was a General in the Tsar’s Army. Golden Age stuff. Kozmotis was his original name. He was a pretty good man back then, before….” Aster trailed off meaningfully, figuring Jack’d work the rest out.

“Before going off the rails on the crazy train of darkness and fear?” Jack suggested. “Huh. Having to listen to Thor saying sweet, sweet nothings to Jane in iambic pentameter, and having to deal with the terrible trio, is not _nearly_ enough punishment.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He shrugged again. “I’m given to understand Sera is seeing if there’s any way to cleanse him of the Fearlings. I’ve told her that’s it’s likely impossible, but a daughter always hopes, and I would never dash that.”

Jack frowned, and rolled over… staying on Aster, of course, so he got a mouthful of white hair. “Thankfully I’m the Guardian of Fun. I’d be perfectly fine letting her down gently and redirecting her attention to something that’ll make her happy.”

“Eh, she’s only got one incarnation working on the project; not like she’s over-taxing herself.” Aster chinned the top of Jack’s head, as best he could. “‘Sides, I don’t think you wanted to talk about that.” He hummed. “No, no… I think it was marriage, or trying to avoid talking about marriage.”

He poked Jack in the side, eliciting a groan from the overstuffed sprite.

“Am I right, or are you just trying to avoid it because you don’t want me to say ‘no, not right now’ again? ‘Cause that’s still the answer, but….”

“Well, it is really disheartening to hear ‘no’ all the time.” Jack wiggled a bit, presumably to get comfortable - but it was entirely possible it was just to dig his heel into Aster’s calf. Wanker.

“But, I _suppose_ , when we get done with all this, and get done dealing with Death-”

Aster’s eyes shot wide. Shit. How’d he forgotten?

He sat bolt upright, and Jack flailed and yelped as he rolled onto the floor, landing with a muted thud and a groan.

Right. Drugs, coma, recovering from memory sickness.

“What the heck?” Jack pushed himself up, and glowered. “Bunny, what ant crawled into your pants?”

“I don’t wear pants,” he said absently as he stood and shuffled over to the bookcase. He took down an ancient tome he kept at hand, just in case, and paged through it, double-checking his memory, iffy as it was currently.

Yep. Just as he recalled. Now that his brain was working in overdrive, at any rate.

“Bunny,” Jack drawled warningly. “Wanna explain what’s up to the rest of the class?”

“You’re not a class of one, Frostbite. Go ring the others.”

“Which others? Is this bad enough to call in the other Regents, or…?”

Aster looked up from the book. “Do you _really_ want to leave the other Guardians out of the loop this time?” He closed the book. “And yeah. Call Odin, or Anika. One of them should come too.”

“Ah.” Jack cleared his throat, and hurried over to his staff. “That bad. Got it.” He paused, and pointed at Aster. “Get back down on that couch, fur-belly!”

“Oi!” he called in protest, but Jack was already gone.

Little bastard, he was. Cute, though. And _his_.

He shook his head. Not the time for that.

“Now, which chapter was that _in…_?”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Saturday, 26 July 2014 -- Burrow, Warren, 8:49 pm local time**

“Sorry we’re late, sorry we’re late,” Jack called, hurrying through the portal.

He was followed by a virtual deluge of people; Tooth and Quetza came first - and Baby Tooth, he realized, when she dove down onto his head and tangled up in his hair, probably on purpose - with Sandy following after, trailed by a cloud of purple lights. Phil and Anika were next, and North brought up the rear.

“It seemed easier to call everyone to North’s with the Aurora, and then portal here, and… that’s a lot of books, Cottontail.”

Aster looked up from his reading, where he’d set up just outside the burrow. He paused, counted the number of people, and then gestured at the ground, tapping his footpaw thrice. Stumps spawned, and grew moss in less time than it took Jack to wander over to him. He stared at them in surprise.

“Didn’t know you could do that,” he said, and hummed thoughtfully. “Can you do mushrooms?”

He stared at Jack like he was crazy, but tapped a finger on the ground twice, sighing as he did so. A small mushroom spawned between Jack’s toes, tall and thin. Edible too, if Jack knew his mushrooms.

“Right.” He clapped his hands. “All we need now are five badgers, a second mushroom, and a snake.”

“Badgers…?” North started to ask.

“Don’t ask,” Aster, Anika, and Quetza all said in unison.

Jack smirked at the unlikely trio, and sat down on one of the stumps. “Okay, Teach. I understand we’ve got a class in session?”

Aster closed his book, and stood. He started pacing before he spoke.

“So, what do you lot know about my googies?”

Jack wasn’t the only one to look confused. He was the first to respond. “They’re _maaaaagic_ ,” he drawled sarcastically, wiggling his fingers as he did so.

Aster threw a small book at Jack’s head.

“Ow!” Jack rubbed the side of his head, and pouted.

“I _mean_ , what they’re _for_.”

“Um, Easter Egg hunts, Bunny-roo, I thought your memory was fixed, not worse.” Jack set the book aside without looking at it.

He rolled his eyes at Jack. “Uh huh. Now, you know I make most of the eggs with the plants and the river. So why would I paint some by hand? Certainly, I could just have them all made automatically for me, if I wanted.”

Good point, except… “Artistic temperament.”

Another book hit him in the head. This one was heavier.

“Are you trying to give _me_ brain damage _too_? Ow!” Jack rubbed his forehead, and pouted. Again.

He narrowly dodged a boomerang this time.

“Quit with the snark, ya bloody drongo.” Aster caught the boomerang, and stowed it reflexively. “Right, so. I see you lot don’t have a clue. To be expected, I suppose, though I do wonder _why_. North certainly should be familiar with the custom, and Anika at least comes from a nearby region. Certainly, I would think-”

North had been tapping a finger against his knee pretty much the entire rant, but all of a sudden he jumped to his feet and began shouting in Russian. “Расписанное яйцо! You are speaking of the расписанное яйцо!”

“For those of us who wanted to retain use of our ears?” Quetza muttered, rubbing at the side of his head nearest North.

“Pisanka,” Anika stated, before frowning. “But that is only an old legend, Bunnymund.”

“Legend? Hardly. Old? Quite true. I should know; I started it.”

Sandy held up one hand. Jack pointed at him, and then, since no one else was paying attention, spoke up. “Glowing golden man, you’re up! What’s your question? Twenty words or less, word count enforced by cudgel.”

Sandy frowned, then blinked innocently. The resulting deluge of images was quite a wonder to behold. There were eggs dancing around Sandy’s head, moons, children, spiders and what might’ve been dog skeletons covered in skin stretched over the bones… Jack frowned.

“I’ve got no idea what you just said, but I think it was ominous.”

Sandy flashed an image of an… underwater cliff?

“That makes absolutely no sense, little man,” Jack said, shaking his head.

Aster hummed thoughtfully. “I see you remember some of what I told you, yonks back.” He shrugged. “Admittedly, it’s been, what… something like a billion years since we last spoke of **It**?”

The Pooka twitched when he finished his sentence. There was a faint, just beyond the range of hearing, thrum in the air. It felt… heavy. And not at all pleasant.

“Ah, right. Forgot about that.”

“Forgot about _what_?” Jack asked, absolutely not clinging to his seat in order to _stay_ seated. Everyone else had jumped to their feet in shock and apparent need to swing a weapon of choice, but Jack was one cool cucumber and not about to freak out like the non-Regents of the world.

Anika, obviously, hadn’t freaked out. She had calmly and reasonably gotten to her feet in order to help keep control of the situation.

“The **Zmiya** ,” Anika said. There was another weird thrum. “That is not good.”

“Bloody hell, don’t say it’s **_Name_**!” Aster shouted.

Another thrum. This one felt more… ominous.

“Right, right. Sorry,” she apologized. “We should wait the requisite three upon three minutes to prevent… notice.”

“Nine minutes?” Jack guessed. “Whatever. Something bad’s coming, isn’t it? Something that painted eggs… what, terrify?”

He was summarily shushed by Anika, Aster, and Sandy.

“Wait.” Aster pulled out a watch from - where? - _somewhere_ , and set it down, with a nine minute timer.

Jack started fidgeting at two minutes, and was about ready to tear his hair out by eight.

The little pocket watch buzzed like an alarm - Jack stared at it like it had grown to heads - not a moment too soon.

“Someone explain what’s going on, now! Or someone’s sleeping on the couch for the next century!” he added, rounding on Bunny. “With no touchy, no looky, no talky - nothing!”

Aster shook his head. “I bet you’d break first. _Anyway_ ,” he said, emphasizing the last word to deflect Jack’s outrage at the accusation - despite how true it likely was - and turned to Anika. “Do you remember the legend properly? I was having trouble finding a good copy of it in my books. Probably residual effects of the … incident.”

“Do you believe it wise to tell the full legend?” Anika asked, gesturing everyone back to their seats. “Or would that draw attention we otherwise wish to avoid?”

Aster shrugged. “For some reason, i-, err, _the creature_ can be called as such, or as _the Serpent_ , without i-- err, _the Serpent_ noticing. Sounds bloody weird to talk like that all the time though.”

“It really does,” Jack agreed, and then looked between Anika, North, and Bunny. Those three seemed to have a good grasp on the situation. “What about writing? Or interpretive dance? Or -”

“I’m not dancing,” Bunny growled.

“I will,” North muttered. “I am good dancer, even.”

Sandy dropped his head into his hands, before looking over at Aster and forming an image of a large Serpent, next to a question mark.

No thrum, so it seemed safe. Aster nodded, and gestured at Anika. “Just avoid the … pronouns, and proper nouns associated with the Serpent, and we should be fine.”

Anika turned to North. “You are not dancing. Jack, you are aware there is great evil in the world. One such is the Serpent. The tradition of the pisanka is this - as long as a certain number of the eggs are painted, the Serpent remains chained down. But if there are not enough, the Serpent is freed and the world will end.”

North nodded. “It is legend amongst the Hutsuls, Ukrainians of the Carpathian Mountains. I have heard of it, but never believed it true. Their people make many расписанное яйцо every year, though.”

Aster nodded seriously. “Yes. And it was my responsibility to make the bulk of the eggs every year. That is why I handpainted so many.” He growled. “And the bacteria _made me forget_. That’s why the Horsemen are loose. They are part of the seals on the prison. A warning, should we forget too many years in a row.”

Jack started counting on his fingers. “It’s been two years,” he pointed out. “On a scale of one to invade Russia in winter -” North looked proud. “- how screwed are we?”

Aster glanced at each of them in turn. “Invading Russia through Siberia in the deepest part of winter. _After_ an asteroid strike blanketed the Earth in a covering that plunged us into the next ice age. Or, in a more _logical_ way of stating it, on a scale of one to ten… _one thousand_.”

“Keeping in mind,” Anika pointed out, “General Winter reports to me.”

“Yeah, that kind of made my question kinda weird,” Jack replied. “Wait, _one thousand_ , on a _ten point scale?_ ”

“Can we do nothing?” Tooth asked, speaking up for the first time since arriving.

Aster frowned. “We might be able to pause things long enough if we stop Death, but… I am unsure. My brain’s still screwed up something fierce.”

“Stopping death,” Quetza said. He rested one hand on Tooth’s shoulder. “How the hell do you fight _death_?”

“Not ‘death’. _Death_. As in-”

“The _Grim Reaper_?” Jack exclaimed. “But he’s a myth!”

“Not a myth, mate. Just invisible. Like you were.”

“And what are we?” North added. “We are also myths, no?”

They nodded. Jack sighed. “Yeah, but… everyone had always told me _he_ was an actual myth.”

North shook his head. “Just well-guarded secret. He is invisible even to other spirits.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I have met, once. During special day. Not very talkative, and very busy, collecting and sorting souls.”

“What day?” Tooth asked, actually looking mildly annoyed. “And he can’t be that busy! People only have one soul each, but I have to collect thirty-six teeth per person!”

Ah, so that was why she looked annoyed.

North gestured at her in a manner that Aster was quite familiar with - brushing off the importance of what the other person said. Tooth frowned severely.

“He sorts the souls. Takes time, to weigh and measure the deeds of life, and to verify which afterlife they belong to. And then ferry them off.” He tapped his lip in thought. “As I recall, was day of thinnest veil between worlds. When I encountered him, that is.”

Quetza lashed his tail. “Speak English, old man. _What_ day?”

Jack ducked his head to hide a smirk. “I know something you don’t know,” he sing-songed, bobbing rhythmically in his seat as he spoke.

Quetza glared at him. He smiled brightly.

“Jack,” Aster admonished lightly. “Just say it already. Quit teasing the annoying bloke.”

“There are shapes of constant width other than the circle. They can even drill square holes,” Jack said, leaning forward for emphasis.

Aster smacked his forehead. “You are an _idiot_.” He turned to the others. “North means Samhain.”

“Y’know, that is not something I’d have guessed,” Jack admitted. “Wait, which day is Samhain again?”

Aster threw another book at him.

“ _Halloween_ , you bloody - gah, you’re as useless as an ashtray on a motorbike sometimes!”

Jack glared at him. “Oh, come on, like you weren’t expecting that.” He paused, and wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “I thought the phrase was as useless as tits on a bull?”

Aster pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, _now_ you remember some Aussie slang.” He glanced at the others while gesturing helpless at Jack. “See what I have to work with?”

Anika’s look was utterly devoid of pity. “We had to work with him a great deal longer. Get back to us when you’ve had him for two and a half centuries.”

“He’s sitting right here,” Jack muttered. Sandy patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, which somehow failed utterly at making him feel better.

Probably because he was also, quite obviously, trying not to giggle at Jack while doing so.

Aster stood. “Right. So. Next up is Death, and we can likely find him on Samhain. We’ll need to be on the lookout for that. It’s my place to confront him, as I’m the Guardian of the Seals.”

Jack straightened up at that. “What? No, you’re the Guardian of Hope. Look, why do we even have to confront Death at all? He’s here all the time. Everywhere, right? How is this time going to be any different?”

“Because, Jack,” Anika said slowly, waiting for him to look at her. “ _This_ time, when the veil between worlds is thinnest, he’ll step through. And _begin reaping_. Whether the vessel is dead already, or not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "So, we're at what chapter again? And finally you can see the overarching plot. Even the fluffy-inbetween stuff was still part of the plot. I feel good that we managed to be so subtle about it. Whee!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Dun dun duuuuuuun!"


	48. Chapter 48

**Tuesday, 23 Sept 2014 -- Burrow, Warren, 12:29 pm local time**

“It’s time,” Aster said, out of the blue, startling Jack.

He stood and crossed the living room, setting aside the book he’d been reading and pulling a small box off the shelf that… hadn’t been there yesterday.

“Am I missing something?” Jack asked. He set down the paperwork - this wasn’t something he wanted to set on fire, since it was dealing with ‘The Situation’ as they were calling it now - and it was always good to know what Jörmungandr, the Demon Snake of Doom was doing. “Time for what?”

Aster looked at Jack solemnly. “It’s the equinox. We _should_ have been at a wedding.”

Oh. Jack cringed. _How’d I forget that…?_

He turned and called down the hall. “Kits! C’mere! I’ve got something for you!”

Jack looked over at the Kitsune, who seemed to be quite literally dragging themselves into the room. Ears and tails were down, eyes shimmering like someone had covered their pupils in an oil slick, and even being internally snarky did nothing to his desire to just hug them until they stopped looking sad.

Apparently Jack had a problem, and that problem was being unable to deal with sad faces.

Raijin was the first to speak. “Yes? Bunnymund-sama, what is it?”

Aster sighed, and rolled his eyes. “I told you, it’s just Aster. Or Bunny, if you feel that’s too familiar.”

“Don’t bother,” Jack said. “They believe in respect, it’s weird.”

The kitsune snickered slightly, despite themselves.

Aster waved Jack off with his free hand, and set the box on the coffee table. “I made something for you two. Figured you’d need one, seeing as you’ve been too out-of-sorts to handle the task yourselves, so I whipped up something. I hope it’s not presumptuous of me.”

Izanami reached for the box. “Surely it is not, Bunnymund-sama. What…” She trailed off, and the shimmering eye effect got worse. “ _Oh_.”

Raijin carefully extracted the… wood and paper thing from the box. “What is that?” Jack asked quietly.

It took a moment for Raijin to look up from staring at it. “It’s… an _ihai._ A spirit tablet, you might call it in English. For… for Kern.”

“Ah.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “That was thoughtful, Bunny.”

Bunny shrugged, and kept his eyes on the kitsune. They shared a look between them, carefully set the - the… spirit tablet thing - _ihai_ \- on the table, and rushed to hug him, muttering thank yous in Japanese.

“Right, right, go on,” Jack said. “I’m sure you’ve got a place just for this thing, and if he gets any more embarrassed he might spontaneously combust.” He waved his hands at the foxes, and jerked his head towards the door.

They pulled back, mildly chagrined. Aster shot him a _look_ , and knelt down, placing a paw on Raijin’s shoulder, and one on Izanami’s.

“I set up a small altar for you, out by the oak. It’s got everything I recall Shinto and Buddhist shrines needing, since I wasn’t sure which sect you adhered to. You’re welcome to go get things set proper; just leave what you don’t need in the box. I’ll take care of it later.”

Jack stayed where he was while the kitsune bowed and left, no doubt for the oak. Kern’s Oak, as all the paperwork referred to it as, now looked big enough to be called a tree. Maybe a decade or two old, maybe older, but no one was about to cut it down to see what kind of weird growth ring pattern it had.

“That was good of you,” Jack said, once the foxes were presumably out of earshot. “I should’ve thought of it, or something like it. I’ve known them longer.”

Aster pulled Jack against his side in a one-armed hug. “Perhaps, but I’ve known a few kitsune in my day. Generally older than these two - I think the youngest had six tails - but I learned a thing or two from them. Figured it’d come in handy one day.” He turned and smiled down at Jack, playfully ruffling his hair. “I expect they’ll set the altar to rights, and then do some praying. Is tradition, when there is a deceased to honor.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Dunno why, but WINTER is extremely tolerant of everyone’s religion, so long as it happens off company time. I know the very basics, and no one’s ever explained the details.” He paused, and set the file aside. “Not sure I want them, to be honest.”

He hummed and nodded. “I’ve always found the various religions of humans fascinating.” He gently ushered Jack to the couch, and sank down besides him. “I must admit, some of their ideas have been a bit… funny, but who’s to say they’re wrong? I’ve lived a _long_ time, and still see things I can’t explain.”

“I’ve always found them weird, thinking about it. I mean, grew up a good Puritan boy, raised to see marriage as a threesome between me, my wife, and God - I kid you not - then I ended up working for Odin, and ordering around a few other old gods. So…” He shrugged, and looked over at the window pointing towards Kern’s Grove. “Y’know. Religion. I gave up.”

“Well. I’ll tell ya one thing, mate. I ain’t ever met a one true ‘God’, but I’ve met plenty like Kern, or Odin. Small timers, all of them, in comparison to what my people considered to be out there, but good, in their own ways. Regardless,” he said, pausing, and shifting to face Jack properly. “That’s not what I want to talk about. How’re you holding up?”

“About what part? Kern, big bad, bigger bad that we’re not able to talk about? Having to do all my own paperwork? Jamie getting interested in girls and the girls deciding I’m a vampire, the boys deciding I’m a zombie, and Sophie deciding I’m a duck?” Jack smirked, though it was half-hearted. “Gonna have to elaborate, Fur-belly.”

“Well, you could always get a new Knight-”

“Hell to the fuck no.”

Aster blinked, but nodded. “I figured as much. I _meant_ about Kern. I know how you’re handling the ‘big bads’, as you like to call them: too much paperwork, and not enough time for your friends, or your mate.” He shrugged. “Not that I blame you.”

“If I could set it on fire instead of adding to the papers, it’d be good,” Jack said. “Now, if you’re feeling neglected, I could make time for you…”

Jack reached over and ran one finger down Aster’s chest, tracing the outline of a muscle.

Aster twitched, but in a good way, if his breathing speeding up was any indication. “I, ah… well, that is to _say_ … is _now_ really a good time? I mean, they’re out mourning, and-”

“And will be a few hours, minimum,” Jack pointed out. “And, let’s just say, I’ll be respecting Kern’s memory in a different way… remember the fanfic?” He licked his lips. “And the thing I’m supposedly able to do with my tongue?”

Aster blinked. Were his ears a shade pinker than before? “I, ah… yeah? I, ah, thought that was just his imagination…?”

“Wanna find out?”

Jack didn’t think he’d ever seen Aster move so fast for the bedroom.

He grinned, and followed.

This was going to be _fun_.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Thursday, 30 Oct 2014 -- Fortress, Antarctica, 7:34 pm local time**

“Indian burial grounds?” Jack suggested.

Tooth glared at him. “Which ‘Indian’, again?”

“I don’t know, all of them? Especially desecrated ones?”

Aster cleared his throat pointedly. “I think you mean _Native American_ , not _Indian_ , Jack.”

Tooth nodded sharply, while continuing to glare at Jack.

“No, I meant Indian. Like, _from India?_ ” he glared back. Tooth blushed faintly, and averted her eyes. “If I meant Native American, I would’ve said ‘America’.”

Tooth nodded, and turned to Baby Tooth. They started talking in their rapid-fire off-shoot that sounded like a strange mix between Hindi and _bird_. Jack was lost after about three words. She turned back to him after a moment and shook her head.

“We cannot think of any sites with sufficient significance to warrant Death’s entry.”

“What’s the criteria?” Anika stole North’s flask of… something alcoholic and possibly flammable, by the smell. “Just where someone has died? Where a great many people have died? Where people have _escaped_ death? The saying is _death is everywhere_.”

Aster frowned, and consulted his books for a few minutes. Jack tried to get a look at what he was reading, but it was all gibberish to him - squiggly lines and flowery script.

“What’s that written in, anyways?”

“Old High Pookan,” Aster commented, eyes never leaving the page.

“Teach me.” Jack held up one finger. “After the world-threatening crisis is over, before the next one.”

He glanced up and stared at Jack wonderingly for a moment, before grinning sappily and nodding. He looked back down for a moment, and then closed the book decisively.

“According to my records, Death normally enters the world through ‘portals to the underworld’. Or ‘hell’. Or whatever you want to call the respective afterlife of the region he enters through.”

“Caves, tunnels, chasms, Hot Topic…” Anika smirked at the surprised looks directed her way. “It counts.”

Jack laughed, and nodded. “Right. So… that narrows it down too… only a bazillion places.”

“Well,” North said slowly. “We could always ask the death gods. They might know, yes?”

Aster snorted. “Most of ‘em are dead.”

“Hel,” Jack pointed out. “Except, last time Odin tried to talk to her, she showed emotion and called him the worst grandfather ever. Loki’s forbidden from visiting. We’ll send Thor; she yells, he looks like a kicked puppy, and comes back with cookies.”

The others blinked at him a few times. Well, except Anika; she’d met the crazy old death god-lady. She understood, by the look on her face.

“‘Spose that’ll do. Jack, if you could get Thor in motion? We’ve only got…” Aster paused, and checked the clocks on the wall. “A few hours, depending on time zone. Some places are already in tomorrow. And it’ll happen after dark. Probably dusk, if my books are right.”

Jack shoved away from the table. “I hate time zones. Why do they exist?” He turned and headed for the door. “Pity there’s no, like, official place, right?”

A cup of eggnog went flying across the room. Everyone turned to look at Sandy, who was jumping around and flailing his arms to get their attention.

Right. They’d forgotten about him again. Jack sighed. They really needed to work on that.

“Yes?” North asked. Sandy nodded. “You have idea? Why didn’t you say so!”

Sandy glared at him. Anika smacked North upside the back of his head.

“Because he can’t talk! It’s a good thing I’m not attracted to your observational skills.”

Aster snickered. “He did the same thing back when Manny wanted our attention about Jack.”

“Phil shared with WINTER. We actually have a collection of the best North Quotes,” Anika said. “Please, go on Sandy.”

He started flinging images really fast.

“Slowly, for the slow-minded,” Jack hurried to add. Sandy nodded. “Like North.”

Aster burst out laughing.

“Hey!” North complained. Anika shushed him.

“You once said H2O is hot water and CO2 is cold, you do _not_ get to talk.”

North pouted, and settled back in his chair. At least he was still paying attention.

Sandy summoned up an image of the Earth, spinning slowly on it’s axis. Several spots started glowing brightly.

“Hey, official entrances to the underworld. Awesome. Let me grab a globe, Sandy.”

Sandy held up a finger.

Aster snorted. “Jack, get back here. Artist with a photographic memory, I’ll stick pins on a globe later.”

Jack pouted and sat back down. On Aster’s lap.

“Distracting me will not help,” he said, but wrapped one arm around Jack’s waist anyways. “Go ahead, Sandy.”

Sandy gestured at the globe, and most of the lights slowly winked out, one by one. A clock appeared next to the globe, spinning madly as this happened, until it stopped abruptly, and morphed into a calendar. For this month.

There was only a single dot on the slowly-spinning globe that was glowing now. Faintly.

Tooth sat up straight. “You mean these gateways only work on certain times of the year?” She paused, and added, “Well, everyone has different days of the dead, when you think about it…”

“Let’s not and say we did. Is that Egypt?”

Sandy wiggled his hand side-to-side, horizontally. He made a small calendar, starting date 4000 BC appear, and the lights respawned on the globe. The pages fell away, and the time scaled forward. And the lights disappeared again, until there was again the single faint one. He then popped a question mark above his head, inquiring if people understood properly this time.

Jack raised his hand. “I got nothing. Anyone else?”

The others all shook their heads.

Aster sighed, loudly. “He means, you yobbos, that they’ve been closing over the millennia. Looks like there’s only one left.” Sandy did that horizontal hand wobble again. “Sorta one left?” Sandy nodded. “It’s weak?” Sandy gave two thumbs up.

He gestured at the globe again. It zoomed in on the spot, until they found themselves looking at the Mediterranean Basin. Europe, North Africa, and-

“Island in some ocean,” Jack deadpanned. Aster smacked him again. “What? I don’t know that area of the world, there’s no snow!”

“Greece, idiot.” He squinted at the globe. “Epirus, I think.”

Sandy nodded happily.

“Where?”

Sandy shrugged and the question mark reappeared.

Aster sighed. “You don’t know _where_ specifically, just that region?” Sandy nodded. He turned to look at Jack, who was still in his lap. “Got any Greeks wandering around the Fortress we might be able to ask?”

“Maybe? I’ll go harass Weyland, there might be a Greek or two hanging around the Forge.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Friday, 31 Oct 2014 -- The Nekromanteion, on the banks of the Acheron River, Epirus, Greece, 7:01 pm local time**

“Bunny, the sun’s set. Are we in the wrong place?” Jack gestured towards the - wrong, Aster didn’t mention - horizon, and pouted. His expression was barely visible, what with the lack of lights. The light cloud cover managed to block most of the moon-and-starlight, and humans hadn’t built quite this close to the Nekromanteion.

It was, in a word, dark.

Well, almost. _He_ could still see, at any rate.

Aster sighed, and pinched the bridge of his muzzle. “Jack. We’ve been over this. There’s _sunset_ , which was an hour and a half ago. There’s also _Civil, Nautical,_ and _Astronomical_ twilights. It could be any one of them.”

“Please don’t hate me,” Jack whined, never a good start. “I wasn’t listening when you said that the first time.” He paused, and added, “What was it about sunset?”

“Correction,” Anika interjected. “You weren’t listening the first _six_ times.”

“I was too busy guarding us all from possible dead people,” Jack said, and sniffed haughtily. “I mean, what if Death showing up starts off the Skeleton War everyone’s been worried about?”

“More like whining,” Tooth said, giggling at Jack when he flailed and turned to face her general direction.

“Lies. I don’t whine-”

“Yes, you do,” said everyone else present, in unison.

Jack growled, and ignored them. “Why’re we waiting around in the dark again? We have magic, we can make lights.”

Aster turned to Tooth. “Sounds like whining to me, still.”

She nodded.

“Bunny, you are a horrible, horrible liar. Sandy, you agree with me, don’t you?” Jack wrapped his arms around Aster’s waist, the better to lean around the Pooka to talk to the other Guardian.

Sandy shook his head, smiling in amusement. Apparently that meant, in Jack world, that Sandy was agreeing with Jack’s statement, because the idiot crowed and promptly started going on about how Sandy was now his favorite.

Aster kissed him. To shut him up. That did the trick, though it took a full minute.

Jack went partly limp in Aster’s arms when he pulled back. “What was I saying?”

“We’re not making lights, Jack, because, _again_ , we need to be able to see in the dark. Properly. Not be light-blind,” Aster explained. For the… eighth time? He’d lost count.

Jack hummed, and combed his fingers through Aster’s chest fur. “Y’know, I hear you talking, but it gets all fuzzy because your accent is the best, I get distracted. Not my fault. Entirely on you, Cottontail.”

At least the kitsune were giggling, so that was something.

“Right. The time is now 7:05, Bunnymund. If something doesn’t happen soon, we’d better head back to the Fortress and see if we can find traces of Death elsewhere,” Anika said, interjecting again before Jack got any more handsy.

“Hear that Jack?” he said, looking down at the fluff of white hair nuzzling his chest. “Two minutes, and if nothing happens, we can go back to the Fortress.”

“I’m _bored_ ,” the little idiot whinged. “But I can wait, I _guess_.”

“Still whining,” Aster muttered. When Jack made to protest again, he shushed him with a paw over his mouth.

There were times - getting ever more frequent - where he had to wonder just how Jack had survived this long as a field agent. Didn’t that involve a lot of hurry up and wait? Being quiet? _Not_ acting like a bloody civilian?

Jack licked his palm. He was not impressed, but pulled his paw away anyway. He squinted up at Aster. “That’s your ‘not impressed’ face. What, is my tongue not that entertain-”

Aster’s ears perked up. “Sssh, I hear something.”

The ruins were suddenly awash in moonlight, the full moon having abruptly, and without warning, appearing, as if the clouds had simply parted to make it so.

“The sky’s skill cloudy,” Jack said. He sounded rather calm about it. “Can’t see the moon. What the fuck…?”

As they watched, the ruins were - well, not exactly rebuilt, but not exactly _not_ \- rebuilding themselves, brick and stone and mortar - and every other building material apparently used in it’s construction - seeming to materialize from thin air, and reforming into how it must have looked, back when the Nekromanteion was still in use.

North was muttering under his breath in Russian, composers and - apparently there weren’t enough musicians - novelists, a few actors, and what might have been a baking recipe.

“I think, even with our own lights, it’d be impossible to miss this,” Jack said, sounding _bored_ now.

Anika sighed, very loudly. “Shut up, Jack.”

He opened his mouth to respond.

And the doors opened, on silent hinges.

Death walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "We’re all gonna die."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Dun dun duuuuuun!"


	49. Chapter 49

**Friday, 31 Oct 2014 -- The Nekromanteion, on the banks of the Acheron River, Epirus, Greece, 7:08 pm local time**

In hindsight, Jack supposed, Death didn't so much as walk out as _glide_ , a sort of not-movement that still somehow implied motion.

It was really creeping him out.

Death stopped, at the spot where it was possible to see Death’s outline, but not any details. Tall, very tall, his - her? _Its_? - figure in shadow save for two eyes, glowing with pale sparks of light in shapes no human eye ever made. The sparks of light, weirdly enough, were focused on the ground at their feet, and not at anyone in particular.

“So,” Jack said, talking as quietly as he could, turning to look at Bunny. “This is Hades’ temple, right? That who we’re dealing with?”

Aster sighed, heavily. Jack knew that sigh; it meant he’d said something stupid.

“No, you yobbo. Hades is retired; lives in… the Caribbean, somewhere. Enjoys the sun, oddly enough.”

“Guess he spent enough time in a hole in the ground. So, default then.” Jack turned back towards Death. “Grim Reaper? Grimmy? Gri-”

Jack stopped speaking as soon as his eyes alit upon-

“Jack?” said the small girl.

His sister.

Emma blinked up at him, looking just as he remembered. The hem of her skirt was just a little uneven, from their mom’s unpracticed repair job.

“ _E-Emma_?”

“Why have you come to bother Mr. Death, Jack? He’s a very busy man, you know!” She put her fists on her hips, just like she always did when she was angry at him. And tried to frown severely, though it just looked cute.

“We - we have to talk to Mr. Death, Emma. It’s important. About - about his work.” Jack glanced over at Bunny, feeling like he was about to burst into tears, and didn’t know _why_. Well, not exactly. He had a guess or two. Since, you know. His sister. Who was kind of three centuries dead.

Jack turned back in time to witness Emma turning her head to look at Bunny. Her form - well, _shimmered_ wasn’t the right word, but he knew nothing else that fit - ‘shimmered’ and, in the next moment, there was another Pooka standing there, brown-furred and pale off-white markings. Green eyes, much like Aster’s.

Aster said something in the singing Pooka language. He sounded even more choked up than Jack felt. And after a second or two, he repeated himself, in English. “ _Mum_?”

She smiled, slowly, and said, “Oh, my little Aster, all grown up, and taking care of the children of Earth. I just want you to know that I’m very proud of you. However,” she paused, and frowned. “You really do need to leave the Reaper to his work, dear.”

“Mum,” Aster said again, apparently unable to form other words. Jack reached over and wrapped his arm around Aster’s waist, and squeezed tight.

Her eyes brightened at the action, but never wavered from Bunny. “Is… is he yours? You found someone? A mate?”

“Y-yeah, mum,” Aster choked out. “Jack’s my mate. Mummy…”

“I know. I’m sorry we can’t speak longer, dear, but I have to go now.” She turned to look at Jack-

And he was now staring at a man he barely recognized, let alone remembered.

“Hello, son,” he said, voice deep and low, and tickling at the back of his mind.

“Father,” Jack said, feeling… blank. He really, truly had no idea how he was supposed to feel, so instead he felt nothing. He had vague memories of this man, of large, strong hands picking him up, a deep voice lulling him to sleep, long hours listening to a wet cough in the night and knowing his father wasn’t going to teach him about the sheep as he’d promised.

“Why have all of you come to interfere in the Reaper’s work?” he asked, gesturing in a way that Jack vaguely remembered his uncle doing. Was it a family trait? He’d have to ask Aster, later, if he moved like that.

“Father, I… We need to talk to the Reaper, Father. About his work. Because - because we need to know what he intends, sir, before…” Sir. He’d called this memory of his father ‘sir’. He remembered doing that, before. Once or twice.

His father nodded solemnly, and glanced to the side, at nothing.

He did that not-shimmer, and suddenly, the tall, dark, and shadowy form of Death once more stood before them.

“What the bleeding hell…?” Aster growled softly, his confusion evident.

“I take the form of loved ones past, Hope, if I look directly at you.” Death’s natural voice was soft, yet reverberated clearly across the clearing in front of the temple.

“Do we talk to them? Like, they’re really them, or… you with their voice…?” Jack asked, staring at Death from under his bangs.

Because if that hadn’t really been Emma - her shade, her memory - or his father, or Aster’s mother...

Someone was going to end up filled with ice spikes, just watch.

Death nodded slowly, staring at a rock near Jack’s foot. “They are… aware, Joy, when I take their forms. The words are not always mine. So, in a manner of speaking…. Yes.”

Okay. He’d hold off on the ice spikes. Since, you know. Emma. His father. Aster’s mom.

Death tilted his head slowly. Inquiringly. “Why has Wisdom sent you and yours, Joy, to interfere with my work?”

“Because you are a Horseman,” Anika said; Aster hadn’t spoken much since seeing his mom, and Jack was having difficulty coming up with a good reason.

She looked completely unaffected from what she’d seen and heard, though the others weren’t as good at acting. The Guardians were shaken, to the point that Tooth had bit down on her knuckles, and North had tears in his eyes. Sandy kept shooting disappointed looks at Death, and Jack wasn’t about to question why.

Death tilted his head towards her. “That is true, Duty. But this has been foreordained. Why do you only now act, when the Seal is to be broken this night?”

“Because we do not wish the Seal to be broken,” North said, and then sniffled. “Because we did not know that this night was the night, until just days ago.”

He glanced in North’s direction. “I remember you, Wonder.” He shook his head slowly. “That matters little. What’s done is done, and cannot be undone.”

“We’ve still got to stop you,” Tooth pointed out. Sandy nodded in agreement, images flying fast and complex above his head.

Death turned to look in Jack’s direction again. “I see, Joy, you have assembled quite the arrangement of companions to face me. Your fellow ‘Guardians’, Wonder, Hope, Memory, and Dreams -” He gestured at North, Bunny, Tooth, and Sandy, in turn. “- And your compatriots of WINTER, Duty, Volition, Compassion, and Benevolence.” He gestured at the others, in turn: Anika, Quetza, and the kitsune, though it was hard to tell which was which supposed name when they were huddled together like that.

Jack flailed his hand and staff. “Whoa, whoa, no, not mine! Not mine! I am not taking responsible for this herd of cats, nu-uh, no way, you can’t make me! I’m not gonna!”

An odd sound came from Death. Was he… chuckling? It was _really_ creepy.

“You’ve taken the forward stance, Joy. Ergo, you are _leading_.” He shifted his stance, in that not-movement way of his - one moment, he was holding it out to the side, the next it was in front of him - and planted his staff. A long blade materialized from the side, forming a scythe.

He made no further moves. Yet.

Jack grimaced. “Fine, if I’m leading, gonna have to be the one to ask. Why’re you calling us… what was it, Wonder and Duty and blah blah blah? We have names, presumably you know them.”

“I speak your Centers, Joy.”

Jack ducked his head and muttered to himself, “What’s yours, Creepy?”

“Quiescence.”

“Wait, what?” Jack frowned. “Qui-what? Thesaurus-man,” he said, turning to Bunny. “What’s that word mean?”

He had to shake Bunny a few times. Hard, to get him to snap out of it, though he still spoke as if on autopilot, all stilted and monotone. “Uh, right. Uh… Quiescence means to be at rest; quiet; inactive or motionless. Stillness. Things like that.”

Oh. Well. Fine then. “Okay Grim. Here’s the deal,” Jack said, and planted his staff in front of him. Yay, leadership. When this was all over, he was going to prank the WINTER agents like never before. “Maybe we can’t stop the Seal from going kablooie, maybe we can, but what we’ve got is that you’re now out and about and not just limited to the people who’re supposed to kick it, but everyone else, too. And we want to stop that.”

Death… one moment he was standing several yards away, still as the night itself, and the next, he was standing in front of Jack, scythe around the back of his neck, the blade kissing the fine hairs there.

“You think you can stop _me_ , Joy?”

Jack grinned, bright and easy, as if he wasn’t at all aware of the blade. “Yup! Mortals do it all the time.” He leaned forward, and whispered, “It’s called resuscitation.”

Death snorted. _Snorted_ , and that was a really weird sound too, almost like a horse, but not at the same time. And a little tinny. Kinda weird. And creepy.

He not-moved again and was a few feet away, standing at rest.

“Very well. I accept your Offering.”

“Offering… wait, what? What’d I just agree to? I’m not sacrificing any cows, okay! Wouldn’t know where to find them, anyways…”

Death’s not-quite-at-Jack-gaze fell several degrees. Jack shivered.

“Silence, Joy. You have made the Offering. I shall choose the Champions.”

He not-moved back a few more feet, and was still, his staff no longer bearing the blade.

Sandy flailed his arms, pictures flying, scowling for all he was worth. Death looked at him - and didn’t turn into anyone, weirdly enough. Either Sandy being a star messed that part up, or Sandy hadn’t lost anyone, or… Jack was overthinking it, of course he was, but still. Weird.

“Silence, Dreams.”

Sandy looked quite put out, but stopped. It seemed, however, that Bunny’d managed to follow what Sandy was flailing about.

“The _Trials_? I thought those were a myth perpetuated by the humans!”

“Trials? What ‘trials’?” Jack asked, turning to look at Bunny.

Death answered him. “They are quite real, Hope, I can assure you. None have completed them successfully, save one. He did not survive long thereafter, I am afraid.”

Jack considered throwing a snowball at Death, and even formed one, but he refrained. For the moment. “Someone explain what the heck you’re talking about!”

Quetza cleared his throat. “Ah, if I remember correctly, the Trials are the things like when mortals speak of playing Chess or whatever with Death to avoid their deaths.”

Death glanced in his direction, and nodded. “That is correct, Volition.” He glanced back towards Jack. “There are three possible trials, in total, though most mortals choose only one. For _this_ , however… all three must be passed, or I cannot prevent what is foreordained. More’s the pity.”

Jack held up the snowball. “I’m going to throw this in your _face_ ,” he snapped. “Fine. You and me, let’s get this over with.”

“ _I_ choose the Champions, not you, Joy. However, since you are so _eager_ to die… I choose you, Joy.” He paused, and turned his head slightly. “And Hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Oh wait no, just the idiot and his boyfriend."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Oh! Bonus Chapter! Chapter set on Halloween, on Halloween. OoooOoooOO!"


	50. Chapter 50

**Friday, 31 Oct 2014 -- The Nekromanteion, on the banks of the Acheron River, Epirus, Greece, 7:14 pm local time**

_“_ I _choose the Champions, not you, Joy. However, since you are so eager to die… I choose you, Joy.” He paused, and turned his head slightly. “And Hope.”_

Aster swallowed thickly when Death stopped speaking. He was no stranger to danger, but this was an entirely new level. The Trials, what little was known of them, that is, were known to be quite deadly, and difficult.

Why couldn’t his life _ever_ be easy?

Jack, beside him, seethed like a powder keg waiting to go off. “Sorry, wait, what?” he asked, and tossed the snowball in hand up and down. “Bunny too? In all the stories I heard - wait, is this a contest for a golden fiddle? Are we seriously doing that? I can play the violin… Or I could, anyways. Bunny, you’re now completely tone deaf, I want this fiddle.”

Death paused and stared in Jack’s direction for long seconds, before making a strange noise - possibly his version of a snort? - and turning around.

“Come, Joy. Hope. The Trials await you.” He tilted his head slightly towards the others. “You shall all stay here, and _wait_.”

Jack huffed, and drew his arm back. Aster caught his wrist before Jack could carry through and actually hit Death with the snowball - the idea made him feel sick to his stomach - and frowned.

“But I wanna,” Jack said, hint of a whine entering is voice.

Aster took the snowball out of Jack’s hand and tossed it to the side. “No. No snowballs.”

He started following Death, and kept hold of Jack’s wrist, dragging him behind.

“You’re no fun,” Jack pointed out. “So, no, seriously. Golden fiddle?”

Death didn’t respond, only beckoned them to follow him into the Nekromanteion.

Jack started muttering under his breath, but it was at a level not even Aster could clearly make out, so that was fine. Mostly.

They entered through the large, fire-blackened oak front doors of the Temple, and found themselves in a long, sparsely-lit hallway. The walls, ceiling, and floors seemed roughly hewn from some sort of dull sandstone, torches every few dozen feet. The flames glowed blue-white, but gave off no heat.

Aster stiffened when the doors slammed behind them. Jack jumped, and yelped. They both turned in time to see a heavy bar fall into place of it’s own volition, with an ominous thud of wood-on-metal. Several heavy iron chains snaked across the doors as well, binding them closed.

Jack coughed, and shifted until he was pressed up against Aster’s side. “The chains are tacky,” he said.

Aster snorted, petting Jack’s hair reflexively. “And _iron_. If I had to guess, they’re more anti-magic than anti-egress.”

He glanced towards Death, who was standing a few yards away. He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of Aster’s guess.

“Come. This way. The walk is quite… long.”

“How long is this going to take?” Jack asked. “Because if we’re not back soon, someone upstairs is going to have to use the bathroom, there will be whining and complaining at how long we were… stuff like that.”

Death didn’t respond, and merely started not-moving in that strange glide of his down the hallway. Jack grumbled about the lack of an answer.

Aster stared at the torches as they passed. Something was… not right.

“Wait a minute,” he exclaimed suddenly into the silence, making Jack jump again.

“Would you - I am getting you a collar and bell,” Jack snapped. “What?”

“The fire, on the torches… it’s not… moving.”

“It’s not?” His dearly beloved and highly scatterbrained mate stared at the passing torches, and then stuck his hand in one. “Not hot, either. Weird. What’s it mean?”

“Time is of no consequence here,” Death intoned in answer.

“You’re boring.” Jack started walking backwards, one hand on Aster’s shoulder for reasons known only to himself.

He appreciated the contact anyway. “He means, Jack, that time is… frozen, perhaps, or maybe that we’re between moments. Regardless, I think the others will be really surprised when we return immediately, from their perspective.”

“ _If_ you return,” Death put in.

“Yeah, this guy’s still boring. Also, time stopped. How does that even work. It’s not stopped for _me_. Are we going to be here for years and years and…. Wait, no, I don’t age, never mind.”

Aster shook his head and kept walking. “I don’t think it’ll matter long we are here, relatively speaking. I… don’t sense anything. At all. We’re somewhere else, I think. Was that door a portal?”

“ _I’m_ supposed to know?”

He lightly cuffed Jack over the head. “I’m thinking out loud, drongo.”

“I think you should be more concerned with _what_ I will ask of you, rather than _when_.”

“Well, I have high hopes for a golden fiddle,” Jack said, obviously musing out loud. He skipped - or stumbled, either was possible - and spun around so he was facing the way they were going. “Hm. Something life threatening. It’s always life threatening.”

“There is only one golden fiddle, and it is in … Georgia, last I checked,” Death noted dryly.

Jack actually stopped walking, and stared. “Is that a joke?” Aster tugged on his arm to get him moving again. “Did Grimmy make a _joke_?”

Death shrugged lightly, though he never paused in his not-movement. “It has been known to happen.”

“Grimmy, if you weren’t such a stick in the mud, I’d laugh. Maybe.”

Aster stared at Jack, not sure what to make of the exchange he’d just witnessed. After a moment, he shook himself mentally, and smiled at Jack as best he could manage, given the circumstances. “Well. Never let it be said Death doesn’t have a sense of humor, I suppose. It’s just a bit… morbid, and dry.”

The walk came to an end at that point, culminating in a antechamber with two closed doors, that Aster was fairly certain hadn’t been there previously. Of course, he was also certain that up until he’d looked down at Jack, the hallway had continued.

“Huh,” Jack said, looking back over his shoulder. “Thought so.”

“Huh?” Aster turned around and looked back down the hallway -

Except there was no hallway, only a blank, nondescript sandstone wall.

“Yeah, when I was walking backward? The wall stayed three inches back the entire time. Creepy.” Jack shrugged one shoulder, and moved over to one of the doors. “So. What’s the deal?”

Death stepped, in his way, up onto a slight platform in the middle of the circular antechamber; it was about two feet across, and circular itself. When he did so, the latches on the doors unlocked.

“The Trials number three, in total. Each tests for different aspects, and each presents different challenges,” Death said quietly, though his voice reverberated perfectly from where he stood. “Body. Mind. Heart. Each shall be tested, and if you are found wanting, you will not leave this place.”

“So, no dying,” Jack muttered. Aster refrained from pointing out the obvious.

“Each of you will choose a door, and thus the Trials shall begin. One leads to the Trial of Body, and the other of Mind. Choose wisely.”

Aster shared a look with Jack. The doors were identical, if mirror images of each other. “Any preference? I can’t tell them apart.”

Jack folded his arms, and waggled his staff back and forth between two fingers. “For preference, I’d like Body. I mean, I know you’re badass, but it’d just make me feel better if you were the one doing, y’know, chess or checkers or go, whatever. I don’t know, left.”

“Choose your doors, and enter,” was all Death said in response to their conversation.

“No one likes you,” Jack pointed out, and headed for his door.

“No one cares,” Death responded dryly.

Aster paused and stared. Death didn’t move. Strange bloke, that Death. Shaking himself again, he stepped forward and placed his paw on the door handle. “Hey, Jack?”

“Yeah, Bun-Bun?”

“Love you.”

“Back at you, Fluffy,” Jack said, and stepped through the door.

Aster opened his and stepped through.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

Jack stepped out through the door - which promptly vanished, because of course it did - and stopped. And then began cursing in every language he knew, including Klingon because it was a very useful language for cursing in. The room was up high over… what looked like the obstacle course from hell, just like the contents of the room looked like the Giant Chess Set from Harry Potter from hell. The pieces were, for both sides, made out of a cloudy crystal, and both sides were missing their kings.

As for the death course down below… No matter where he stood, and Jack circled the room to make sure, he could see the entire course. It was very weird, and very creepy, and he just knew Bunny was down there, down among the pits of lava (what the hell), swinging scythe blades (what the hell) and what he was pretty sure was a killer clown (no, seriously, _what the hell_ ).

Death appeared next to Jack silently. “You have chosen Mind, I see.”

“I wanted Body,” he said bluntly. “So, chess game. Going for cliche?”

Death tilted his head slightly. “Cliche… perhaps. I do enjoy the game; a pity most do not play it sufficiently well to challenge me.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, and smirked. “You’re on, Grimmy. I take it we’re each kings?”

Death inclined his head in agreement. “You may take the White King. I will take the Black. We can begin whenever you are ready. However, once you have stepped onto the board, you may not leave. If you step away when it is not your move, you forfeit the game.”

“Noted,” he said, and moved toward his side of the board. When he stepped up onto the king’s spot, the pieces took on a blue tint, and their appearances became more defined. Jack winced. The pawns were wendigo - trite but predictable, the real things were about as dangerously limited as pawns were - while the rooks, knights, and the like, were various winter spirits Jack knew. The Snow Queen stood as his queen, which was very creepy; her knight was… Gerda riding a polar bear? Okay then… And that was Kai as her bishop, very nice. Her rook was Father Frost, from what Jack could see. And for his knight, it looked like he had Weyland, General Winter was his bishop, and…

Bunny was his rook.

None of his pieces looked ready for hugs and cuddles; even Bunny was in his six-armed shape, armed and armored, but at that they were an infinity of friendliness away from Death’s pieces.

When Death took his spot, the pieces took on a sooty appearance, as if someone had dusted that side of the board with charcoal. None of the pieces were recognizable to Jack as people, not like his side, but there were hags, werewolves, redcaps for pawns… A really friendly bunch, to be sure.

Death’s Queen was… if Jack was correct, that was probably Hel; he’d seen at least one picture before. How cute. The bishops were a pair of Grims - _of course_ they were Black Dogs of Death and Doom - while the knights were… wait a second.

“Are those _Fellbeasts_? Like, from Lord of the Rings? The Ringwraith’s mounts?” Jack asked, pointing at one of the knights.

Death cocked his head slightly. “It is a good story.”

“Grimmy, _you’re_ a fan of the Lord of the Rings?” Right. He was not letting Death and Bunny fanboy together, that’d get _weird_.

The rooks were… strange. Reptilian, with leathery, greenish-grey skin and sharp spines running down their backs. They stood about four feet high, and hard sharp claws and fangs. They looked quite dangerous.

“The heck are those things?” he asked, pointing at the pieces in question.

“Chupacabras,” Death replied dryly. “They are most unfriendly.”

“Oh, and the rest of your line up’s a barrel of laughs?”

“Redcaps would like to think so,” he commented dryly.

Jack frowned, and tested flight. He could fly up, but not past the limits of the square he was on. Well, at least he’d be able to get a good overview of the board when he needed it. “Right then,” he said, and landed. “White moves first?”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

The door vanished as soon as he let go of the handle.

“Figures,” Aster muttered, and turned around. “Oh bloody hell.”

He could see only a limited stretch of his challenge, due entirely to the tall, dark walls - probably basalt - looming to either side and ahead. He was in a maze. And it was unlikely that this was the Mind challenge, so that meant Jack….

“Bloody hell,” he said again, and rubbed at his temple. “That’s just… Jack. Mind. This is going to end very badly.”

“You have chosen Body, it seems, Hope,” Death said, though Aster couldn’t tell from where. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“Where are you?”

“With Joy. I am communicating with you remotely.”

Figured. “I guessed I got Body,” Aster said, and kept the insults behind his teeth. “What, exactly, is my goal here?”

“If you would be so kind as to look up,” Death said quietly. “You should see a platform. I… placed a small flag there, just to make it obvious. Wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

He did as directed, and scowled. The platform was quite high indeed, almost level with what looked to be a room atop a central pillar. Probably where the Mind challenge was being held, with Aster’s luck. He’d get high enough to look in the window just in time to be distracted for the final bit to the platform. Probably planned that way.

And yes. There was a flag. At this distance, it looked to be a speck of color against the dark stone, which meant it was probably the size of a bath towel or something.

“As you have probably guessed, the Body challenge is arranged in the form of a Maze. There are several possible routes to your goal, each with it’s own set of physical, and dangerous, challenges. There are also a few… surprises, if you choose the wrong route.”

Of course there were. “Gonna borrow one of Jack’s terms,” Aster said, and started walking. “You _suck_.”

There was a long pause, before Death said dryly, “I lack lips.” He paused again, and then added, “Usually.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

“King’s English Opening. Interesting choice.”

Jack frowned as he watched his Knight, Weyland, move up behind the pawn he’d moved forward. “I thought it was called Reverse Sicilian?”

Death cocked his head curiously. “I’m surprised. I did not expect you to know the terminology.”

He gestured forward his Queen’s pawn, a redcap, one square to protect the King’s pawn, another redcap.

“Queen’s pawn, forward two,” Jack said, his wendigo lumbering the targeted number of steps. “Why wouldn’t I know the terminology?”

Death grunted. “You could at least use the proper wording for movement, but I suppose that will suffice.”

“That’s stuffy.” Jack jumped up into the air and studied the board. “And why would I want to be stuffy?”

He was favored with a long, considering silence. “I suppose you wouldn’t be Joy if you were stuffy,” he allowed as he gestured at the board. “King’s pawn takes Queen’s pawn.”

Jack frowned, and watched as the redcap moved to stand on the same square as his wendigo. And then leapt onto the wendigo, wrench his pawn’s head off in a spray of what looked and smelled like rotting blood, and start tearing chunks off the dissolving corpse.

Jack nearly fell out of the air in shock, and then looked at the pieces that didn’t represent wendigo - that he didn’t really care about, to be honest, because _wendigo_ \- but his _friends_.

Oh, _fuck_. He was going to need a world of therapy after this.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

The instant he set foot in the hallway - for lack of a better word - large, swinging scythes dropped down and began their work. They were as steady as a metronome, starting with three close together, a bit of space - and he didn’t trust the ground there, it looked dubiously solid - five more scythes, another bit of dubious space, and then four scythes. They all looked to be ticking along at different rates, and it was harder to judge the further ones.

Still… He paced back and forth as much as the hallway allowed, and then closed his eyes and listened. The scythes’ swinging was whisper soft, but whispering was still noise. He’d trust his ears over his eyes at this rate.

There! Hah! He opened his eyes, and saw the pattern his ears had picked up. Just in the first group, the first scythe - closest to him - was the longest, and so it was the slowest. Middle was the shortest, and fastest. The third scythe was in between the other two. And at first the pattern looked random and impossible, but he watched it run through twice, noticing when the three blades synced up for a single swing - less than a second of leeway, he thought - before becoming ‘random’ again. And his ears told him the same thing was going on with the further ones, though of course the time it took to sync up was longer.

His speed was going to be an advantage here. If he timed it just right, he could dash down the corridor as the blades synced, and avoid them all in one go. He’d have to use the opposite wall to avoid the dubious patches of ground, though.

Aster braced himself to take off when the timing was right, and waited, listening more than he was watching.

_Just… about… NOW!_

He took off as fast as his legs could carry him, skimming past the first few blades as they swung wide. Aster then bounded to the side and bounced off the wall, neatly avoiding the patch of ground that bothered him. A pebble was dislodged by his passage, and fell onto the dubious spot - which promptly gave way, revealing a hole in the ground. He did _not_ want to know how deep that went.

Aster shot by the next several scythes, and two more dubious patches, just as the scythes reached their peak in sync, and he just managed to clear the last two as they swung back down, narrowly missing his tail.

He came to a skidding stop a few feet beyond the last blade and looked behind him.

“Ha! And not a scratch on me!” he congratulated himself, turning forward to inspect the next challenge.

The walls shifted around, a quiet grinding noise reverberating through the corridor for a few moments, before revealing two paths. The corridor behind him was now blocked by a new wall.

“Only way is forward, eh?” he muttered as he considered his options, using his ears and nose.

The path to the left… he heard low growling, and smelt the heavy musk of some kind of _dog_. To the right… faint squeaking, the kind that came from… new shoes? Aster blinked, and then shrugged. The _dog_ was right out, time to see what kind of monster wore new shoes.

Once he’d gone a few feet down the chosen path, the quiet grinding noise started up again behind him; he glanced back in time to see the path close off. Shaking his head, he continued forward, and quickly noticed the increase in ambient temperature.

He soon found himself approaching a blind turn in the path. Cautiously, he approached the corner, and listened carefully, closing his eyes to block out distractions.

_Squeak. Squeak._

If he couldn’t smell the leather at this point, he’d swear that almost sounded like rats.

_Honk_.

“What the…?”

Just in case, he drew one of his boomerangs before stepping around the corner.

Jack’s obsession with all things comics at least let him recognize what he was looking at, even if the Joker in the Batman comics didn’t wear a big, red nose or oversized red shoes. Or have fangs and drool blood.

“A killer clown? You have _got_ to be kiddi- oh shit!”

Aster ducked as the clown squeezed the flower on his breast and it squirted a greenish ichor his way. A good reaction, it seemed, because everything the ichor touched _sizzled_.

“Right. Not fair at all.”

He threw the boomerang; the clown dodged the first pass, but not the second. Aster jumped over him as he reeled, catching the rebounding boomerang and kicking the clown in the back of the head at the same time. The clown landed face first on the stone floor. Aster bounced off the wall and landed several yards away, now able to see a _lava pit_ off to the right side of the corridor where the wall just fell away abruptly.

He really, _really_ hoped this was the right path. Because otherwise this was the wrong path, and he should’ve gone with the _dog_.

“A’right, you pancake makeup yobo. C’mere then.” He gestured to the clown, and smirked as he put the boomerang away.

The clown frowned - an expression made all the creepier by the makeup - before snarling and charging, pulling out what looked like a rubber chicken at first glance.

But, no, no, it was a dead chicken. Or rather, _un_ dead, and it too was screaming at Aster.

Aster sighed, sidestepped the charging clown, and kicked him in the side. Into the lava.

“Bye,” he said, and considered where to go next. Not back…

The chicken hopped out of the clown’s hand at the last moment and landed on Aster’s back, and pecked his head. Aster yelped, and swatted the damn thing into the lava pit, this time waiting to make sure it _stayed_ there.

“Ow,” he muttered, rubbing at the back of his head. His paw came back slightly bloody. “Sharp beak.” He sighed. “Right. Don’t let success go to your head, idiot.”

He walked for a few more yards before coming upon another branching path.

This one had _four_ options.

“Oh bloody hell,” he swore, even as he set to listening and sniffing and trying to suss out what was ahead.

Something metallic, something hot, something… feline? But not, at the same time. Huh.

And… something dog. _Again_.

He really didn’t want to deal with a dog. He really, truly did not. The other two options sounded like the generic horrors he was expecting - metallic sounds like knives being sharpened, that sort of thing. Or the scents that he associated with poisons and acids. Which could either be easy to get past, or incredibly difficult.

Feline would probably be the easiest for him to deal with. He couldn’t think of any cats associated with mazes, though that probably didn’t mean anything.

He headed down the feline-scented path, and got a fair ways down before the path back was blocked again. A heavy fog rose up, not enough to impede his progress, but enough that he couldn’t see what was up ahead until he rounded the corner, and -

“Riddle me this, Bunnymund.”

“Oh, fuck me.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

Jack considered the board from his recently castled position. Which he’d totally done for safety, and not so that he could have the faux-Bunny by his side.

Faux-General Winter turned to look at him, eyes intent but utterly blank. “Directions, Commander?”

“Patience! Sheesh! Even the _fake_ you can’t wait for me to _think_!”

The General stared at him for a moment before turning back around to stare blankly ahead. After some more consideration, Jack said, “Queen’s Knight’s Pawn, forward one.”

There, that’d protect the other pawn-

Oh shit, he’d forgotten about the black knight threatening the General’s position.

The Fellbeast moved in, and Jack cringed. General Winter - fake, he reminded himself, the general here was _fake_ \- put up a defense - so his arm was torn off first. And then his other arm. And then he trampled, claws tearing at his stomach, and finally his throat was torn out.

The Fellbeast took the General’s place, turned to look at Jack, and reared, clawing at the air.

Jack’s stomach clenched. He flew up, and looked over the board. Down two pieces, a pawn and the General, Death hadn’t lost any… early in the game, he reminded himself. And made a mental note to schedule that interview with one of WINTER’s psychologists first thing he could.

“Having second thoughts, Joy?” Death inquired softly.

“Do these second thoughts include planning on crying like a baby later, but carrying on now? Because I’ll be honest, there will be tears - after I kick your ass.”

Jack… couldn’t be sure, because he couldn’t _see_ anything but eyes beneath the hood, but he _swore_ Death was grinning at him. It made his skin crawl.

“I look forward to seeing you _try_.”

Jack scowled, and dropped down onto the board. “Snow Queen. Take that damn Fellbeast out. With _extreme_ prejudice.”

Faux-Anika drew a sword, and laughed like a psychotic off her meds as she charged the ‘beast. It took several sword blows before the ‘beast died. Jack winced at the finishing move; faux-Anika cut the still ‘alive’ Fellbeast open, reached in under the creature’s ribcage, and tore out its still beating heart.

“Yeah,” he said, as the ‘beast began to dissolve. “I think it’s taken out.”

Death gestured his Queen forward one square.

“Interesting. _Most_ interesting. I look forward to seeing you try more.”

Jack scowled. “Do you ever get bored with the cliche lines you keep spouting off? Because I’ve got to admit, at this point, I’m mostly tuning you out. Not like you say anything interesting.”

Death made a strange hissing noise. Or… wait, was he _laughing_?

“You amuse me, Joy. It has been a long time since someone has managed that. _If_ you survive, I’ll look forward to meeting you again, under less… dubious circumstances.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I expect that won’t be the case. More’s the pity. It’s your move.”

“Downer Dan,” Jack muttered.

Options, options… Jack flew up into the air again, and studied the pieces, the layout. Chess was all about thinking five, ten moves in advance - if he moved this piece _here_ , then Death could move that piece _there…_ so on and so forth.

Death made that strange hissing laugh again. “Oh, this should be fun. Hope has found a most _special_ challenge just now.”

“What?” Jack looked away from the board, and stared at Death. “What do you mean?”

Death tilted his head in Jack’s direction, gesturing down at the ground below.

“He has found the Sphinx.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Yes, Jack gets chess, Bunny gets body. Luck of the draw, and they'd like to switch draws now. (Psst, not allowed!)"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Yes, I am using an actual chess game for reference. I'll post the reference game down here once it's over."


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief instance of sexual harassment and assault. Aster kicks ass and explains no means no.

**Friday, 31 Oct 2014 -- Inside the Nekromanteion, Death’s Realm**

“A _Sphinx_?” Jack asked, and held his staff at the ready. “Isn’t that cheating? They’re the riddle guys, they’re not a physical challenge.”

Death not-stared at him for a moment. “Joy. Need I remind you what happens if you fail to answer the riddle correctly?”

“It’s Bunny,” Jack pointed out. Because of course Bunny would and could answer any riddle, even the stupid ‘How is a Raven like a Writing Desk’ lunacy. “So, sorry, your argument has been proven invalid. Why a Sphinx? Why not a - I don’t know, something dangerous - blast-ended skrewt?”

Death cocked his head. “What, pray tell, is that?”

“You were keeping up with the references to this point. I’m disappointed. You suck.” Jack flew up into the air, and looked over the board.

Death made an odd noise, and a book popped into existence next to him, hovering. “Ah. I see. I have not read this one yet.” The book disappeared. “You are not worried about your beloved’s safety then? Much confidence you must have in him.”

Jack nodded. Death had no idea.

Though he wasn’t sure it was confidence. Because if - no. Bunny had to make it.

He wasn’t about to consider any other possibility.

“Kai, forward left one,” he said, and focused on the board. Faux-Anika’s bishop shifted diagonally left one tile.

Rather than speaking, Death simply moved two tiles to his left, and his rook on that side - a chupacabra, Jack reminded himself - ran and leapt over him to land on his right side.

“Castling too, huh?” Jack snickered. “I didn’t even threaten your position yet!”

Death didn’t dignify that with a response, only gestured for Jack to continue. They traded a couple more moves, before Jack moved one of his Wendigo-pawns forward to take out a redcap. That… wasn’t pretty to watch, as the Wendigo simply devoured the poor thing. Well, ‘poor’, relatively speaking, at any rate.

“Why’d you give me Wendigos?” he asked curiously.

Death considered the board for a moment, and then gestured. His nearest bishop - a Grim - pounced on the Wendigo and proceeded to tear it’s throat out. Eww.

“They seemed the most fitting thing for you to throw away.”

“A good chess player doesn’t throw any piece away,” Jack pointed out. “And if that’s your opinion? That’s why you’re gonna lose.”

Death made that strange hissing-laugh again. “Come now, Joy, you needn’t continue to demonstrate your knowledge of the game, I can already tell many have underestimated you before. I will not make the same mistake.”

“But you already are,” Jack pointed out.

Death considered him for a long moment. “Wherefore do you say that?”

Jack’s smirk was a little tense, but it was there. “You think I don’t know you rigged the doors? This is your domain. And you put _me_ , the hyperactive air-head, in a chess game, when I’m more experienced with, well, that,” he said, and waved towards the windows, and the maze beyond.

Death made a sort of odd chortling sound. “I think you underestimate me, Joy. You are the Guardian of _Fun_ , after all; why would you _not_ be familiar with a _game_?”

“Familiar, sure, but _good_? When the rules are so boring, and limited?” Rolling his eyes was the perfect addition to those questions.

“I suppose Tri-Dimensional Chess would have been more to your liking?” Death said, cocking his head inquiringly.

Of course he knew that reference. “Actually, I like to stage revolts with my pieces, but I don’t think I want the king to have his head cut off in this case. My move, right?”

“Ah, Peasant’s Revolt; an interesting variation, ‘tis true. Yes, it is your move.”

“Of course you know that one,” Jack said, and sighed. “Right. You know what, Death? Let me suggest something to you. Pick a new game. You have been playing this one just a little too long. Look into snakes and ladders, Chinese Checkers, Go, but for the love of god, retire the chess game. Weyland,” he said, and the piece straightened up. “Alright, minion. Go forth and destroy.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

The Sphinx that had spoken to him lay regally atop a rocky outcropping, glaring down at him coldly, as she - or was it a he? the features could have swung either way, though if there were any breasts, he couldn’t tell with how the Sphinx was draped over the rock - rustled its feathers and flicked its tail in irritation. It - seemed the safest pronoun for now - was of a fairly typical physiological arrangement, with the upper body being more humanoid, and the arms and midsection quickly morphing into a leonine body structure, complete with golden fur and claws, as well as a pair of large, golden-brown eagle-like wings on its back. The human skin was a duskier shade, somewhere between what he’d expect for the coastal Egyptians and the southern Greeks, so he couldn’t be sure of its origin at this time. Not that it mattered.

“Ah, greetings?” he tried. The Sphinx had spoken English, so there was no need to trot out his rusty Greek, or worse Egyptian. “Would you care to explain that statement, then?”

It regarded him distastefully for a few seconds, before inclining its head. “I presume you know of the penalty if you fail to answer my riddle correctly?”

“You rend me into many little pieces,” he confirmed, and then was unable to help adding, “If you can catch me.”

The Sphinx raised a paw before its face and flicked out its claws, idly examining them. “Please, answer the riddle wrong; it has been _so_ long since I’ve had a tasty morsel such as yourself.” It looked at him darkly. “And I do _so_ love the taste of rabbit.”

Aster sighed, and rubbed one hand over his face. “D’you know how many people make that crack? It’s a cliche. An insipid one.” Besides, Jack did it better.

It glared at him coldly again, and then sniffed dismissively. “Are you ready, little morsel, for my riddle?”

“It’s not gonna be that stupid human life as a clock shite, is it?” he asked suspiciously.

“Hardly.” It sniffed dismissively again. “A farmer has a bag of grain, a chicken, and a fox, and must get all three across a river. He possesses a boat, which will carry him, and one of the items; he must leave the other two behind. The chicken will eat the grain if left alone; the fox will eat the chicken if left alone; the fox does not care about the grain. How might the farmer move all three to the other side of the river without losing anything?”

Aster stared at the Sphinx, and then reached up to rub his forehead. “That’s it? That’s the riddle?”

“For now,” it answered cryptically.

“Grain, chicken, fox, boat,” he muttered, and wished he had a pad of paper. Without it, he had to imagine each crossing… oh, that was it. “Simple enough. Farmer takes across, say, the chicken, leaving the fox and grain behind. He goes back, grabs one of ‘em, fox or grain, takes ‘em across. Then he takes the chicken back, leaves it on the bank, takes whichever he’d left behind the first time, then crosses back a final time to pick the chicken back up.”

It regarded him for a full moment, before inclining its head. “You are correct. You may pass. I look forward to our next meeting.”

With that, she simply _vanished_.

Next meeting? Aster wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

He headed down the hallway, or path, or _whatever_. No traps popped up, at least until he came to another fork in the road.

He couldn’t smell or hear anything to either direction, which probably meant passive traps. Of course, passive didn’t mean less dangerous. It did mean he had to pick a direction, though. Since he had to go up, he looked towards the central tower, used it to orient himself, and went right.

The hallway closed behind him, as usual, and he continued on a abrupt and steep upwards incline for a few dozen yards; a good sign, in theory, though nothing prevented it from sloping back down.

Which it did, if only a few feet, around a corner, and into-

“Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me,” he breathed.

He really hoped that wasn’t a - an olympic-sized pool, a lake, a field - of lava. Boiling water that had been dyed red, that he could accept, but not _lava_.

The ‘lava’ burped suddenly a few feet from him, raining down a few hissing droplets of molten rock on the shore.

Yep. Real lava.

“Fuck me.” He rubbed his face, and, resigned, examined the field of _lava_.

So, apart from the expanse of insanely dangerous lava, which he very much did not want to go near, there looked to be platforms floating in mid-air, without support. He was fairly certain that the platforms should have been burning just from the intense heat - they were made out of _wood_ \- but one of them looked to be dripping wet, so what did he know?

The platforms sat anywhere from a couple feet to almost a dozen above the lava lake’s surface, and were scattered about the field, various distances from each other; thankfully, all distances he could leap, but just barely in some cases. He could just make out, through the haze in the air above the lake, another shoreline across the way.

“Death?”

A moment’s pause. “Yes, Hope?”

“How’m I not overheating already?”

“So long as you remain above the field, you will only feel an intense heat, rather than the full brunt of the lava. I’m not _cruel_. Just practical.”

Practical, _right_. He flipped off the ceiling, for lack of anywhere else to direct his ire, and studied the platforms again. Right. He could start off with that one, it was nearest...

He had to make the jump from a run. It was just too far for him to manage from a stop, he needed the extra momentum on his side. Even then, he barely made it; he had to fling himself forward and dig his claws in - made easier by the platform being wood, so at least the material was of some use to him - but the next platform was too far away for another standing-jump, so he had to immediately launch himself forward through the air at it.

Aster hit the second platform, and almost fell backwards when it started to sink. He jumped for a third choice - maybe fourth - platform that was closer, but off to the side. It too started to move, going forwards. It actually brought him near a good spot, a platform that was almost in line with his start, and he jumped for it.

It promptly started sinking towards the lava.

“Not ‘cruel,’” Aster muttered, and laughed. Then he jumped for another platform. “Not ‘cruel’ my fluffy tail.”

“Pardon me for enjoying platforming games,” Death’s voice rang from above.

Grumbling as he landed, he nearly fell off as this platform, too, began moving, though side to side, rather than forward or down. It moved at a brisk pace, so he had to dig in his claws to stay upright. It brought him near several other platforms though; he just had to choose.

Which one though? Two were higher, one was about level, and the last was _really_ close to the lava, though it was the easiest to reach; he could practically just drop onto it without effort.

If he took the low one, he’d be able to launch himself immediately to one further ahead, that looked better. It’d be an almost vertical jump, but better than being taken further away from where he needed to go.

So he jumped to the low platform.

Which began going up.

Of course it did.

Which was when he noticed the sharp-looking stalactites on the ceiling.

“Oh, that’s just bloody fucking not _fair_.”

Quickly assessing his options, he dove for the platform he’d planned on previously - now almost level with his position - but it, too, began moving upwards. Faster than the other platform.

Aster looked around, and saw a plausible choice; it was to the left, it was lower than he was, it was within reach. Why not? If he stayed on this one much longer he’d end up squeezed between the platform and the stalactites.

He dove for it, and landed on all fours, almost spread-eagle. The platform, wonder of wonders, didn’t move.

“I see you found one of the only stable ones on the latter half of the field. Well done,” Death’s voice rang out, tone dry as could be. “Perchance, you might make it across yet.”

“Cut the color commentary, ya sadistic fuck,” Aster snarled. He looked at the options available - going back wasn’t an option, even the platforms he hadn’t taken had fallen into the lava - and grunted. Choice made, he gathered himself, and then launched himself out into the air, body uncoiling like a spring.

He hit the platform hard, and it actually jerked down a good foot before starting to rise. Aster waited until it’d gone up three feet above where it’d started, and then jumped for the next platform, which began going from side to side.

 _Really_ fast. He hung on for dear life.

Glancing around, he saw that he was only about three or four platforms from the far shore - if he didn’t have to detour, that is. Considering the options, he rolled off the side when the platform paused to shift back the way it had come, and landed, hard, on the edge of a lower one; he nearly slipped off, until he dug his claws in.

And it started dropping at an alarming rate.

“Fuck,” he swore, scrabbling to his feet and leaping, half-blindly, towards the nearest platform.

He landed with a grunt as he slammed bodily into the side of it, legs dangling and fingers digging into the wood.

The platform begin to rise.

“That’s just bloody wonderful,” he muttered, scrambling to climb up over the edge as it moved ever nearer to the ceiling.

He was only eight feet or so below the stalactites when he finally scrambled up over the edge. Making a snap decision, he leapt off the far side of the platform and straight towards the shore line. He _might_ have the momentum and height to make it.

His leap of faith was rewarded. If one could call it that.

He landed, chest first, on an outcropping of rock hanging out over the lava. A landing platform, maybe - and one meant to collapse under a person’s weight.

Chest burning, shoulders worse, Aster clawed at the rock and kicked his feet. Stupid outcropping, he couldn’t get a good - toehold - _there_!

The rock fell into the lava just as he scrambled onto solid ground.

For a good minute, maybe three, he couldn’t do anything but lie there, gasping for breath. Cracked a rib, he decided.

Death tsked. “Now, now. No… how would you put it? Ah, yes. ‘Lollygagging’, I believe. The next challenge awaits.”

“Ass….” He forced himself upright, and rubbed at his chest. Ow. Maybe it was his sternum that’d been cracked.

“You might want to hurry. The lava looks… _hungry_.”

Huh? Aster looked back over his shoulder, and blinked. “Is it _rising_?” And bubbling, that was just… great.

He turned and started running, on all fours for speed - and to spare his chest.

The lava gave chase, though once he dashed into the hallway at the far end of the shore, it stopped, lapping up against an invisible barrier mere feet behind him; his tail felt singed from the heat.

Sighing in relief, he turned around and found himself faced with a branching path: one smelt of feline, and the other of dog. _Again_.

“Oh, _fuck_ no,” he said, and headed towards the Sphinx.

“You again,” it said, when he came into view.

It inclined it’s head, and offered, “Riddle me this, Bunnymund: If it's information you seek, come and see me. If it's pairs of letters you need, I have consecutively three. Who am I?”

“Not one for pleasantries this time?” he muttered, already considering her riddle.

The Sphinx narrowed its eyes, and human teeth really had no right looking that scary. “Answer. The. Riddle. _Rabbit_.”

“Right, right. Keep your figurative pants on. I’m thinking.”

“... you have two minutes.”

Aster sneered, and then smirked. He leaned against the rock wall beside him, and waited. At one minute-fifty-five seconds, he cleared his throat. “Bookkeeper.”

The Sphinx started, twitching full-body. “I… did not expect you to figure that one out. I shall… have to try harder, for our next meeting.”

“Yeah, not happening,” Aster muttered. “Can I get past ya, then? You’re blocking the way out.”

It inclined it’s head, and stood-

Oh, it was female. Had breasts. Huh. Or, wait… oh, that wasn’t right, was it? A sheathe _too_? _Both_ sexes?

Still left him confused as to what pronoun applied. It was _it_ then.

The Sphinx vanished, as before, and he headed down the hallway. There were several twists and turns, but no offshoots and no intersections, until he came to another wide open space. Completely empty, in fact. The floor was covered in a fine - dust fine - layer of dark gray sand, and it was perfectly smooth.

He eased out into the room, and - as he had expected - the entrance closed right behind him.

And there was a drawn out grinding sound, very much like rock against rock.

Right before massive blocks dropped down out of the ceiling. They hit the ground, and then started slamming back and forth, the nearest ones close enough to reach out and touch.

Others started to spin out of the walls running around the field, just barely visible to the left and right, and, in short order, a virtual stoney meat grinder was sliding and slamming and shattering in front of him.

Oh bloody fucking _hell_.

“Are you having fun yet, Hope?” Death’s voice deadpanned, coming from seemingly next to him.

Aster looked around the bit of space still left to him, and frowned. Were those actually hand-and-footholds set in the wall there? They were… a way over the mess? Great, was he expected to do trapeze nonsense now? Or maybe a way to view the blocks, see if there was a pattern or something…?

“I’d tell ya to go to hell,” Aster said. He tested the first handhold, and then started climbing. “But I ‘spect that’s where you crawled out of.”

“I believe the appropriate modern phrase is ‘Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.’”

“Can’t see you wearing a t-shirt, to be honest.” Oh, lovely, getting high enough to view the obstacle course was also high enough to give him the collywobbles. He hated heights.

He gripped the wall for dear life as the vertigo came and went, though it left him feeling queasy when his head cleared. Fan-fucking-tastic. Resolutely attempting to ignore his stomach, he surveyed the field.

It was… quite large.

And that was a _lot_ of blocks.

But… now that he was able to look down on them…

It was like with the pendulums, before. Watch it long enough, and a pattern emerged. The blocks moved, after all; where they were became where they weren’t, and vice versa. Spaces a Pooka could fit, if he was fast and remembered the patterns.

It occurred to him - somewhat oddly, upon reflection - that Jack might somehow have enjoyed this particular obstacle course. He’d have to tell him about it, later.

Assuming… well, assuming. Right.

He shook his head.

“Don’t think like that, idiot,” he muttered to himself.

He returned to surveying the field, taking a bit more time to memorize the pattern as best he could. He then hopped down - and experienced another quick bout of vertigo, for whatever bloody reason - and, when that passed, he waited for his opening.

And when the opening came, he ran for it. And then for the one after that. And the one after _that_.

And, because of course things weren’t frightening enough, the adrenaline calmed enough that he was able to think while he ran between the giant, smashing blocks. Mostly about how close they were all coming to him. About how very flat he’d end up if he got caught between them.

About how he really, really didn’t want to get caught between the blocks.

Jack probably would’ve shouted something silly, like ‘Parkour!’, while he dodged around and amongst the blocks, but Aster simply grunted with the effort and continued on.

Despite his best efforts, one of the smaller blocks clipped him as he passed it, sending him spinning past the planned opening he’d intended. Scrambling for purchase, he rebounded off the next block that came for him and dove _over_ the next two, arriving at his intended opening at that point only a split second before it closed. He flung himself through, shoulder aching from the impact with both the block, and now the ground, and rolled past the last block. he came to a stop on his back and glanced to the side.

He yelped and rolled, dodging one last block - glancing around to be sure - and then flopped down, gasping for breath again.

“I am impressed, I must admit. Good show, Hope.”

“Hate - hnnnn - hate you. Bastard.” He sucked in a desperate breath, winced when his ribs protested, and then did it again. And again. Because his chest hurt, but the lack of air hurt so very much more.

Death hummed softly. “Injured yourself, have you? I don’t recommend the right-side path up ahead, then.”

Aster groaned, and got up onto his feet. The right? What was… cat. Cat to the right. Again? _Really_? And dog - why was it always a bleeding _dog_ \- to the left.

He flipped off the ceiling again, and headed to the right. At least with the riddle he could catch his breath and prepare for the next challenge.

Aster followed the short hallway, and turned when it bent upwards and left, entering into a small cove - of sorts - with a small field of - well, _not_ lava, at least - some hot liquid to one side. The far wall had a small opening, barely large enough for him to fit through, and there was an outcropping in the middle of the space, but … no Sphinx?

There came a purr right _behind him_.

Aster spun, and came face to breast with the Sphinx. “Ah, hi, again,” he said, backing away until he wasn’t ogling at the… mammary glands. Sized for the massive Sphinx. They were a little frightening, actually.

It leaned down, and sniffed him. “Why _hello_ , Bunnymund. I had hoped you would choose me again over that-” she sniffed dismissively - “ _dog_. I’ve grown a bit… fond, of you.”

And in the way of cats the world over, she slunk past him and managed to rub her flank against his side - which was how he caught a whiff of her pheromones. Oh, bloody hell.

Death had _told_ him not to go to the right….

“Riddle?” he asked, feeling more than a little desperate now.

It - no, _she_ , with the way she was eyeing him like a side of man-meat - grinned, all teeth, and purred, “Riddle me this, Bunnymund.” She paused and settled herself on the outcropping. “When my first is a task to a young girl of spirit, and my second confines her to finish the piece, how hard is her fate! But how great is her merit if by taking my whole she effects her release! What am I?”

His mind scurried in frantic circles, because he had a sudden feeling he wouldn’t get rent to pieces if he failed, but stuck in here with a sexually aroused Sphinx! What did young girls of spirit get forced into doing? Other than marriages… hemming! They were set to hemming clothes! And locks were confining, right? So… Hemlock! Hemlock was poisonous… “Hemlock,” he said, and looked towards the exit. Which the Sphinx was ever so conveniently blocking.

She grinned again, predatorily and - wait, how’d she move so _fast_? - appeared right before him. “Mmm, yes. Very right. Now, I think such… quick wittedness deserves a… _reward_ ….”

She moved forward, and he backed up just as quickly - and bumped into the wall. Uh oh.

“Ah, not gonna say this isn’t flattering, but uh - I’m married!”

She pouted at him, but continued advancing. “Of no consequence, I’m afraid; I _desire_ you, and we Sphinxes _always_ take what we desire. Including strong, _virile_ males. _Especially_ … virile.”

He was going to have to ask Jack to erase the word ‘virile’ from his vocabulary. “I’m sorry, I really don’t think my mate would approve,” he said, and bolted to the side.

She pounced on him, knocking the wind from his chest - for the umpteeth time this night - and he panted beneath her for a long, _long_ moment, gathering his wits. This gave her ample time to sniff along his chest, and drop from her sheathe-

Wait. Male genitalia. He winced internally when he felt her balls rub against his knee-

_Aha!_

Aster brought his knees up into the Sphinx’s groin as hard as he could.

The sound she made was… well, he was certain he’d never forget _that_. But she fell backwards off of him, clutching at her groin.

He rolled over, and bolted. She screamed her rage after him, but it mattered not; he threw himself through the hole in the wall that she could not fit through, and panted for breath on the ground.

“When a bloke says he’s off limits,” he pointed out, “He’s off limits. Or she!” Ow. He hurt.

Death tsked. “I did warn you not to take the right-hand path.”

“Ah, cut the gloating.”

Death hummed thoughtfully, as if considering an interesting book. “Ah. I see you have but one challenge remaining. I shall grant you… five minutes, to recuperate - in light of your stellar performance so far this evening - and then I will request that you move ahead. _If_ you complete this last challenge, you will simply have a bit of a climb to the final platform. Nothing particular difficult about it... if you’re not prone to vertigo.”

When he’d hit four minutes and twenty-nine seconds, Aster pushed himself back up to his feet, and started forwards. He could smell dog ahead. Just bloody wonderful. Probably the same one he’d avoided by heading to the Sphinx, and oh boy was he regretting that decision now. How fond of people did the Sphinx get, when they answered the riddles correctly? Should’ve gone for the boomerang, not the brains...

Despite being able to smell the dog ahead, it still took several minutes of winding through the path, which was inclined ever-upwards, steeply, and switched-back on itself many times. It eventually came out into a long stretch, that turned a corner, and came to an open field-

“Oh bloody fucking shit,” he gasped.

Three ultra-basso growls sounded in terrifying harmony. Thick strings of drool dangled from three sets of bared teeth.

The dog was the size of a large truck. Or maybe a small elephant. He really wasn’t thinking straight enough to properly compare it to anything at the moment.

“Hope, I’d like you to meet my compatriot, Hades’, pet dog. Cerberus. Cerberus, Hope. Do be… gentle, with him?”

The three-headed monster of a dog growled again, and started walking forwards. The ground shaking with each footfall was probably a fantasy.

“Ah, nice doggy, good boy,” he said, backing up. “Did you know your owner named you the Greek version of ‘spot’?” Aster sidled sideways when he hit the wall.

Apparently, Cerberus had heard it before.

“Cerberus,” came Death’s voice from above, deadpan. “ _Fetch_.”

Cerberus roared, and leapt.

He screamed. And ran for his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Fun fact- Cerberus' name really does mean Spot, or Spotted One. Hades is the trope setter."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Fun chapter is fun, isn't it? A little mayhem, a little lava..."


	52. Chapter 52

**Friday, 31 Oct 2014 -- Inside the Nekromanteion, Death’s Realm**

The Chupacabra howled in full seven voices, and ducked under Bunny’s swiping arms. The beast nearly tripped over it’s dead partner, but caught itself and jumped.

Bunny managed to dodge the first bite, and slammed the Chupacabra down. It didn’t seem to notice, and lunged for his leg. When Bunny dodged, he had to come down onto his hands and feet to keep his balance.

At that, the Chupacabra had the opening it wanted, and it charged in. Bunny hit it several times, but it didn’t notice. It seized Bunny’s head, and tore.

Bunny cried out, and blood splattered on the ground. His ear was still hanging on, but barely. He’d lost an eye. And the Chupacabra used his new vulnerability to good effect.

It took several minutes before something, the blood loss or the shock, killed the Pooka. When he stopped twitching, the Chupacabra lifted its bloody muzzle and howled, before turning and staring at Jack.

Jack turned away and shuddered. First Odin, and now Bunny...

“If it is too much for you, I can wait. This isn’t a timed game, fortunately for you,” Death offered softly.

“I -” Jack said, and then his voice broke. He sank down onto his knees, and concentrated on breathing. He’d watched...

Odin was as good as a father to him; he’d gone down to the first Chupacabra. He’d watched Bunny tear that Chupacabra - chess piece, but still - literally in half; vengeance, of a sort. And then watched the other Chupacabra… mutilate Bunny. He _knew_ the chess piece wasn’t his real mate, but it still - the likeness was uncanny.

Had been.

“How’s Bunny doing in the maze?” he asked, once he’d cleared his throat a half dozen times.

Death paused, and tilted his head, as if listening to something in his ear. After a minute, he said quietly, “Cerberus is a good dog.”

Jack winced. “Oh.” Bunny would be fine. Bunny could outrun anything, out think any dog… he’d be fine.

He had to be.

Jack didn’t think he could lose Bunny for real. Not and survive, after.

Death titled his head towards Jack, looking at the tile directly in front of him, as far as Jack could tell. “I would offer you more, but it is forbidden. At least, while the Trials are still in progress.”

“Fair enough.” Not fair. Jack clenched his teeth. A lot in his life hadn’t been fair. “Right.” He stood up, and pointed at the remaining Chupacabra. “Anika? _Destroy_.”

Anika turned to look behind her and to the left, as she’d been standing just forward of Bunny, and glared at the Chupacabra, which reared up threateningly and hissed. With blinding speed, she drew her sword in one smooth motion - and cut of its head. She flicked the faux-blood off the blade and resheathed it, before stepping over the corpse to stand in it’s place.

Death considered the board, then gestured for a piece to move; Jack did the same, and then asked, “Hey, Death?”

Death gestured another piece around before answering. “Yes, Joy?”

“Can Anika really do that?”

Death actually paused, and then chuckled. It didn’t sound like a _happy_ laugh. “More than you know.”

Jack shuddered, and glanced over to the piece that was moving - and blinked. Huh. Death had maneuvered his Queen - Hel, of all people - to be adjacent to where Anika now stood. Jack studied the board, and was surprised to note that the rook swapping a few turns ago, and the few pawns that had fallen in the meantime, had left the board devoid of anything but the two Kings, the two Queens, one Knight each - Jack had held onto Gerda-astride-the-polar-bear, which was just a crazy image in the first place - and about a half-dozen pawns, or maybe a little more, between them.

He turned and eyed Death. Death stared at the ground in front of him impassively.

“Anika,” he said. His Queen lifted her head and turned to look at him. “Take out Hel.”

He turned away when Anika moved. He just… couldn’t watch anymore, when he knew what was coming.

Jack clenched his eyes shut when it happened - the thud of Hel’s body hitting the ground, and then the Fellbeast attacking and defeating Anika. He couldn’t turn off his ears. Or his brain. Maybe he should have watched. Then he wouldn’t wonder what it’d been like. He wouldn’t imagine - _Stop it, Jack. Now._

“You know,” he said, voice trembling very slightly. “I think I’m going to have to find some way to retire as a WINTER General.”

Death moved a piece, and then turned to Jack, cocking his head inquiringly. “I take it you do not like ordering troops to their deaths?”

“No. They’re friends. Family. And a General can’t have any. The General needs to be able to send anyone and everyone to die, if it’s necessary.” Jack stared at the dissolving bodies, and his shoulders slumped. “This is hard enough, and I know they’re not the real ones.”

Death hummed, which resonated oddly from under his hood. “Perhaps it would be wise for you to do so.”

Over the next dozen or so moves, they traded blows, their Knights flying across the board and taking pawn after pawn - the only things left to take, besides each other, or the Kings themselves. Finally, Jack saw an opening and moved himself forward.

Death chuckled softly, and his scythe materialized into being; he swung, and the wendigo that was about to be able to be promoted was cut neatly in two.

“That wasn’t nice,” Jack chided. Probably for the best. Logically, it would’ve been better to bring Anika - his queen - back. Instead of Rook-Bunny the way he’d been thinking about.

Which gave him pause for a moment, as a thought occurred to him. “Hey Death? If I’d managed to get two queens up and running, who’d the second one have been?”

“Your sister,” Death said, utterly toneless. He could have been one of those fake computer voices. It was creepy.

And then what he’d said registered, and Jack almost stepped backwards off his square. “My sister?”

Death gestured for Jack to move; he did, shaking himself, and stepped forward again; Death followed suit.

“Well. Duty was the logical choice for your Queen, given the winter theme your pieces spawned as. However, that ran its course rather quickly. The next logical choice would be your sister, as being of your blood. Then finally the female of your kitsune. Likewise, the male would have been a rook, or perhaps a bishop, had there been need for it.”

He had to stare at Death for a moment. “Did you plan out who my pieces turned into?” he asked plaintively.

Death paused, before shaking his head. “It is not my choice. The magic of the board determines this; I can simply read it.”

“You need better control over your toys,” Jack muttered, and gestured to his pawn. His… how many pawns did he have left? One? There was one wendigo left. When did that happen? Wait, it hadn’t happened, he had three wendigo left, there was just one in immediate view. And Gerda with her polar bear. That was… a lot of missing pieces.

“What makes you think _I_ designed this board?” Death noted dryly.

That was a terrifying thought. “I’m just going to pretend you never said that.”

They traded a good ten or so moves at that point, mostly maneuvering the knights and pawns around the board; when he saw an opening, Jack started moving to his left. Death seemed to have the same idea, and started chasing down a wendigo-pawn himself. They both attacked in succession, Jack freezing and then shattering a Redcap and Death neatly slicing the wendigo in two.

He leaned to the side and propped himself up against Gerda’s polar bear. Unlike the lady in Anika’s stories, _this_ Gerda seemed much less likely to strike up a conversation. “Going to go down to the wire, huh?” he asked.

Death chuckled darkly. “So it would seem, yes.”

Jack had Gerda move out of the line of fire; Death moved himself up next to the wendigo. Gerda was immediately sent to guard it. Some more shifting around the board later, Jack was now also guarding the pawn, with Death diagonally forward and across from him. He leaned around the wendigo and stuck his tongue out.

Death responded by moving the Fellbeast-Knight into-

“Check,” Death said quietly.

The word actually resonated in the room, and Jack felt like his bones were vibrating in sympathy. He doubled over, one hand white knuckled on his staff, the other fisting over his heart. Somehow, he managed to stagger to the right one square, and the not-quite-pain vanished as if it’d never been. He straightened up, and eyed the knight. Fun, now he was threatening it.

Death hummed thoughtfully. “I’d forgotten about that little effect. Pardon.”

“Don’t worry, you can feel it next.”

Death moved the Fellbeast again. “Is that so…?” He paused for effect. “Check.”

Jack moved away from the Fellbeast this time, before the pain could set in too deep in his bones. He took a deep breath, and studied the board.

He ended up in check two more times before the situation changed. Death moved towards Gerda, scythe at the ready.

“Move south and left, Gerda,” Jack told her. The polar bear lumbered into life, walking the directed steps, and then stopped.

Jack leaned on his staff, and smiled. “Death? _Check_.”

Death visibly twitched.

“I see,” he said, and stepped back and to the right diagonally, returning to his previous tile. “That hasn’t happened in a _long_ time. I must congratulate you.”

“I’ll say again, you underestimated me.”

Gerda summarily moved over to guard the wendigo-pawn again.

Shortly thereafter, Death checked him _again_. Ow.

And then a few moves later, the Fellbeast finally went for it, and took the wendigo. That was… unpleasant, to say the least.

It was a messy eater.

“Gerda,” Jack said, and pointed at the Fellbeast. The polar bear was definitely the weapon in that pairing; it tore the Fellbeast apart with claws and teeth. And might have eaten a bit, if the chess pieces ate. He turned to Death, and grinned. “Your move.”

Death - well, Jack liked to imagine that he glowered, but all that happened was a slight tilting of the head - considered him… and then stepped back a tile, away from him, and southward. Jack moved Gerda out of the line of fire.

Death moved away diagonally again. Where was he going…?

Jack started following, matching his progress forward for every move back Death took. It was a race to get at Jack’s last pawn, one he wasn’t likely to win - but he had to try.

He didn’t win.

Death took the pawn with a swipe of his scythe and drifted in his odd way into the tile. He turned slowly, visibly, towards Jack, and said, “Your move.”

Jack took a few long, long moments considering the few pieces left on the board; just himself, and Gerda, the Knight, who was half-a-board away. Death, meanwhile, only had to step to the right once, and then it’d be all over; he’d get a Queen again, for sure, in two more moves-

Wait a minute.

He couldn’t move to the right if Jack moved _in_ towards him _first_. Standard chess rules - the Kings cannot move adjacent to each other; there must always be one tile of separation.

He’d have Death _trapped in the corner_.

Jack grinned again, and moved forward with predatory intent.

Death paused and stared at him. “Ah” was all he said. He stepped south one.

Gerda moved in. It took a few moves, but all Death could do was step south, and then north. Back and forth. That, or move the pawn, but then he’d have no moves at all. Seems like Death refused to stalemate; probably something he actively avoided, as that probably led to nasty surprises.

“Give up,” Jack said, just barely keeping a snarl off his face. “Give up now, you have no more moves.”

“I… cannot. While the guest may do so at any time, I am required to play it out.”

“That’s incredibly stupid,” Jack muttered, and gestured to Gerda.

Gerda moved one more time. One. _Last_. Time.

Death stilled, and stared at Gerda. “Checkmate,” he intoned, sounding… confused.

“Checkmate,” Jack agreed.

Death bowed his head, and faded from view.

The two remaining pieces dissolved into the board.

He fell to his knees, suddenly exhausted. The game had been harder than he’d have thought; not only having to think ahead so many moves, against _Death_ of all people, but watching people he cared about die, and not being able to react…

Jack started to cry. Well, leak. Because there weren’t any wracking sobs or snot bubbles or hiccups or anything else that he was usually inflicted with when he cried, but those were definitely tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

Because he’d watched his friends die. Bunny. Family. He’d watched, and he’d stood and watched, and he…

The worst part was, now he knew that if he had to do it, for real, in person...

He could.

And would.

The surge of emotion ebbed, and left him tired, feeling strangely sore, and alone. Jack pushed himself to his feet, and looked around. Now what?

“Well done, Joy,” Death’s voice rang out from the air, with no discernable source. “I am… sorry, for what the Trial put you through. I do not derive enjoyment from such things; I prefer my work to be swift and painless. The Trials are… anything but.”

The giant chessboard slowly faded out, leaving Jack sprawled on rough-hewn stone. The chamber around him disappeared, too, revealing more fully the surrounding terrain - and the scary-looking obstacle course Bunny’d had to run.

Jack glared at the air. “Where’s Bunny?”

“Look around,” Death deadpanned. “Can you not see him?”

Jack frowned, and turned around.

Two Pooka, identical down to the last whisker, stared back at him.

They shared a startled look, and then turned as one to look at Jack.

“I’m the real one!” they said in unison.

“Welcome to the Heart Trial, Joy. Tell me…” Death’s voice came from the air again. “Which of these is the real Hope?”

Jack’s jaw dropped. Then he reached up and massaged his temples. “Well, fuck me blind,” he muttered.

The two overgrown rabbits both looked interested. “Is that an option?” they asked, and then turned to glare at each other.

_As Aster would say,_ Jack thought, hysterically. _Oh bloody fucking hell. I’m so screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "So, that Major Character Death tag is still up there. For the record."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "It's a tad short, by our standards, buuut... good cliffy spot, no?"
> 
> And, as promised, for those who might be interested, the chess game I used for reference was [this one](http://www.chessgames.com/perl/chessgame?gid=1218922).


	53. Chapter 53

**Friday, 31 Oct 2014 -- Inside the Nekromanteion, Death’s Realm**

Heart Trial. Figure out which Bunny was the real Bunny. When - and Jack _had_ seen _Spirited Away_ , at least a dozen times, it was entirely possible neither of them were. It wasn’t cheating, because if neither possibility was real, he should be able to figure that out too. Or Death had pulled a weird twist and both of them were real.

And he had to figure it out.

They looked… real. Fuzzy and warm, with sleek muscle hidden by that plush fur. Bright green eyes and a kissable nose, and those shoulders that… were probably best not to dwell on right now.

Jack groaned, and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. His head hurt. No, more than that, he felt like someone had banged a really big rock off his insides a few dozen times, shook him around by the heels, and then put a pinata in front of him and a stick in his hand and told him to have fun, it was a party.

He knew how he should react - two Bunnies, no waiting, threesome, a cheerful laugh and waggling eyebrows and…

He couldn’t.

Because the chess game had proven one of his worst fears - that if push came to shove, he could and would order friends and family to go out and die - and he’d _seen_ the results of those orders. He’d seen Odin killed. Weyland. Anika. _Aster_.

He’d seen them die.

And now he was supposed to, what, put that aside and figure out who was who?

Screw that.

“Alright,” he growled, and looked up at the two Bunnies. “You,” he said, and pointed to the one on the left, “You’re Number One.” Number One looked startled and a little pleased. The other Bunny looked annoyed, at least until Jack pointed at him and said, “You’re Letter A.”

Jack stood there and considered the pair of Pooka for a moment.

“Okay. Quiz time. One!” Jack announced suddenly, trying to startle them into reacting.

Number One folded his arms. Letter A folded his arms too, but frowned when he did it. Both… accurate reactions, for Bunny. He supposed it’d be too easy for someone to give the game away this time.

“Yeah, Snowflake?” Number One asked. He paused to narrow his eyes at Letter A, but he didn’t make any accusations or claims.

Also accurate for Bunny. Jack nodded thoughtfully, though he was panicking a little inside.

“Okay. So… The date from hell,” he said, and rolled his staff back and forth between his hands. “Where’d we go first?”

Number One huffed, and looked down his nose at Jack. “Dove Lake in Oz, ya gumby. And it’s still not a mud hole.”

Jack hummed, and turned to the other one. “A. Did I call it a ‘mud hole’, or something else?”

“Bloody hell,” Letter A muttered. He shot an aggrieved look over at Number One. “Can’t you remember anything correctly? No worries, Jackie, _I_ was there. You called it a ‘dinky little watering hole.’ Which it _isn’t_.”

Jack snickered at the expression that flit across Number One’s face. Still appropriate reactions from both of them, and completely normal for Bunny to have either remembered the phrase or not.

“You said that Pooka had attributes like what? Number One, go.”

“... Monotremes,” Number One muttered.

Jack nodded, and turned to the other one. “A, speaking of, which was a gift from Mother Nature?”

Letter A coughed, and looked sheepish. “Ah, technically all of ‘em? Even the ones that’re extinct now… That’s not an answer. Platypus.”

Jack frowned. Drat. He turned to the air. “Hey, Death, this is gonna take a while. Can I get a chair, maybe?”

He heard Death sigh, and then the ground… bulged. Upwards. It went back down a few seconds later, leaving a low stool behind. “That,” Death said, “is the best you will get.”

Jack sighed heavily, dramatically, for the effect, and hopped up onto the stool in a manner not unlike he did on his staff. And watched the Pookas’ reactions.

Unfortunately, they both looked casually down at the way his toes curled around the edge of the stool, the corners of their mouths turning up. And then they realized the other was doing the same thing, and managed to somehow look huffy and indifferent.

This was getting confusing.

“Okay. Number One.” The chosen Pooka looked up, and nodded. “Why did I bite Bunny’s tongue?”

“Quetza, the berk.” Number One folded his arms. “He interrupted us. We were kissing. You _bit_ me.”

Jack snorted. “I bit _Bunny_. I’m reserving judgement on which of you are the real one, if only for my sanity.” Jack paused, and smirked, figuring ‘why not?’ because it might get an interesting reaction. “And if you both somehow turn out to be real, I expect a ménage à trois after we’re done here.”

From the slightly glazed looks in both sets of eyes, the two possibly-Bunnies were clearly thinking it over. Quite probably enthusiastically, at least for a few seconds.

Letter A cleared his throat, and looked almost apologetic. “Not a chance. There’ll be no Pooka sandwiches with a Jack filling.”

Number One nodded, and wrinkled his nose. “Besides, one of us is fake. _That_ one,” he added, and pointed at Letter A, who just gazed disdainfully back.

Jack rubbed at his temples. “Right. A! Where did we go for the _third_ date that day?”

“The caves.” Letter A rolled his eyes when Number One started to open his mouth. “The Waitomo Caves in New Zealand. You have to give me a chance to finish,” he snapped at the other Pooka. “So impatient!”

They started arguing and shouting at each other which… was totally in-character for Aster. _Damn it._

“Boys, boys! You’re both pretty!” he shouted. “And if you really, truly need to pull ‘em out and measure, I’ll tell you which one’s bigger.”

Letter A glanced smugly over at Number One. Jack dropped his head into his hands.

“You do realize you’re exact copies of each other, right? So that means _it’s really the same._ ”

“That’s a lie!” Number One protested.

Letter A sneered at him. “Oh, what do you know? Even if there were any differences, I bet this contest hid ‘em except for reactions, just to make it harder!”

“Are we allowed to theorize in front of Jack?” Number One asked, switching from ‘aggrieved’ to ‘thoughtful’ fast enough Jack had to wonder about whiplash.

“Don’t see why not. But, y’know Jackie, if you want to take a quick gander and make sure everything’s the way its supposed to be, I volunteer to be first,” Letter A said.

That… was mildly surprising, but then, considering it was supposedly _Bunny_ , and he was offering to show his _cock_ to _Jack_ … still in-character, if forward. Jack couldn’t help the smile that flit across his face.

Letter A had a shy little smile on his face, and he was looking at Jack as if the winter spirit was… everything. The last time Jack had properly seen that expression - when not exhausted in one way or the other, or otherwise compromised - it’d been directed at Sophie, back when she’d snuck into the Warren. Having it pointed at him was…

It was something else.

“Um. How’d I get rid of the yipping thing?” he asked, almost desperately. Because he wasn’t sure how much he could handle of _that look_ without some kind of emotional break or other. Since, you know, he wasn’t sure Bunny, his Bunny, the _real_ Bunny, was even here.

“Uh, which of us is supposed to answer that Jackie?” Number One asked. Letter A turned to frown at him for interrupting.

“Whoever didn’t answer the last question,” he snapped, and raked one hand back through his hair.

Number One grinned smugly. “That’d be me.” Letter A growled at him. “The _Bunyip_ left because you near froze it to death. Y’know, if it could be killed, that is.”

“I can totally kill a Bunyip,” Jack muttered, and groaned. Question, question… “How about the pills you gave me after?” he asked, turning to Letter A.

“Medicine,” he replied promptly, and then grinned. “With a little somethin’ extra, because you deserved it after the day we’d had.”

Number One sneered at Letter A, but didn’t say anything.

Well, the questions weren’t working, except to give him a headache. He was sure, almost sure, that one of the Pooka in front of him was just a little… off… but wasn’t sure which one, or how, or if he was imagining things. Jack stepped down off the stool, and considered the two of them.

“Alright. Hold still, both of you. Time to inspect the goods.”

They both perked up and proudly presented themselves, and both slightly jutted their hips forward. Jack sighed. Right, totally going to thump the real one when he figured it out. He frowned at that.

“Y’know, way I see it, real-Bunny should quite possibly injured from the obstacle course. I mean, I’d hope not, but given the nature of things here, at least a little. Further, he’d not be thinking about his libido so much.” Jack stepped up and poked Number One in the ribs.

“You doubt me?” Letter A asked, but… yeah, now that Jack was looking, that smirk was just a little wry. And his eyes were just a little tired looking. Kind of like he was trying too hard after a fight or something.

And Number One looked the exact same way, so no help there.

“Actually, yeah,” Jack said, and started going over Number One’s front. He poked a little lower, and got a yelp for his troubles. “What’s wrong?”

“Ribs,” Number One muttered. “If you move your hand down a bit, you can check another bit of bruising…”

Jack felt downwards and frowned when the maybe-Bunny winced. “How’d it happen?”

“Ah, well, bit of a long story there, mate,” he said. “There was a Sphinx, you see. Got a bit rowdy.” He paused, and then grudgingly added, “Death did tell me not to go down that way.”

Jack hummed, and checked Letter A for the same injuries. Yep. A winced, but didn’t yelp, and glanced over at Number One with a pained, but smug, grin. Jack poked the rib again.

“Oi! What’d’ya do that for?”

“You know, just making sure things are even. How’d you bust up the ribs?” Jack asked.

“Well, Death here decided he liked platforming games, like that one video game you showed me, including the moving platforms. Only, over _lava_ , instead of a dead drop.”

Jack held up one hand, and then paused. “Overkill,” he finally said.

“That’s what I thought.” Number One snorted, but didn’t interrupt Letter A further. “So there I was, scrambling to get around right at the end, and I had to make a great leap to the shoreline. Smacked into the edge of the outcropping I’d aimed for, and well. Cracked the rib.” He smirked. “Obviously made it through though. Granted, I was then sexually harassed by that Sphinx…” He shuddered.

Jack’s fingers twitched, and he smiled. Technically smiled. “She got hurt?” he asked, and then turned to eye the maze, still visible through the windows.

“He? It? Female and male all at once,” Letter A said, sounding a little confused. And then he smirked. “Made it easy to knee the bastard in the balls, at least.”

Yeah, that was something.

Jack went back to examining them both, pestering them with questions all the while, but to no avail; they sometimes responded differently, but not in ways that Bunny _wouldn’t_ , so that didn’t really help any. His first impressions proved true, too; they were physically identical, down to the smallest hair and the simplest new injury.

He stalked away from them, growling. And that’s when Letter A mouthed off at Number One, for putting Jack ‘in a mood’.

The resulting squabble reminded him of Caleb and Claude, oddly - or perhaps, not so oddly, when he thought about it - enough. Especially when the twins were arguing over something simple, like who got to play which character in Super Smash Bros…

Huh. That actually gave him an idea.

Jack formed two snowballs, and smirked. “Hey, boys,” he said, and turned around. “Catch!”

Both Bunnies turned as one from their arguments, and took the snowballs right in the face. They stared at him, dumbfounded, for all of two seconds, and then-

Number One started laughing. Or chuckling, really, but-

Letter A swiped at the snow clinging to his fur, and stalked towards Jack. “Damn it, Jack, you know I hate it when you -”

Jack lunged, and pulled himself up or pulled Aster down with the grip around his neck. Either way, he slanted his mouth and pressed a kiss on his mate’s lips, working the lip lock with a frantic intensity that was quickly matched - and somehow surpassed - by the Pooka. Aster wrapped his arms around Jack and pulled him close, and made some kind of pleased mutter when Jack decided standing was too much work and simply wrapped his legs around Aster’s hips instead.

Things had quickly devolved into tongues and teeth when Jack heard Death clear his throat. Aster twitched, but Jack pressed closer, and held up one finger in the general direction he’d heard Death from.

Death huffed in mild annoyance, but abated until Jack finished. He pulled back from the kissing, feeling a bit dazed, and gazing into equally dazed eyes. He leaned backwards, forcing Aster to hold all of his weight, and looked at Death upside-down. Who was standing right where Number One had been.

Jack blinked. “ _You_ were Number One?”

“Have you a problem with this?” Death asked, sounding as if he didn’t care either way.

Jack carefully flipped himself off Aster - and when he glanced back, Bunny was staring at him oddly, but looked alright - and landed in front of Death. He peered up into the hood, though all he saw was darkness, and the two pinpoints that indicated eyes. Sort of.

“Well, I’m glad I chose right, is all. I’d _really_ not have liked giving you tongue.” Jack paused for a moment. “Do… do you even have a tongue?”

Death titled his head, but continued staring just past Jack’s shoulder. “Depends.”

Of course it did. “So,” Jack said, and gestured back at Aster, then at himself. “Obviously, we won the three trials.”

Death leaned back and considered them. “I suppose you did, at that.”

Death Looked at Jack.

And he was staring at his father again.

“Ask your questions quickly, son,” the man said, looking amused. His brown eyes had to be identical to Jack’s - well, when Jack had been human, that is. Apart from the fine wrinkles at each corner. “Can’t keep this up forever, you know. Or, your, ah, your boyfriend, that’s the term, right? He could ask questions too.”

After a moment, Jack’s father spoke again, looking pained. “You know, Jack, when I was alive it wasn’t considered right for two men to be together, but you’re happy, and I’m glad for that. But can’t you do anything to make it, I don’t know, official?”

Jack sighed, and covered his face with one hand. “You know, we’re living together…”

“And you know what I’d say if you were living with a woman. I just think the same principle should apply, is all.”

Aster cleared his throat. Jack’s father tilted his head in Bunny’s direction, but didn’t look away from Jack. Probably would’ve messed with the magic or something.

“Yes?”

“We’ve… talked about it, some. I’ve been making him wait, just to be sure. Granted, he’s already talking about _children_ , but that’s neither here nor there; marriage first. Where I came from, we did it proper. He’s asked, already, if that makes any difference.”

“As it happens,” Jack’s father said, sounding dry and amused and just a touch awkward, “That’s what his mother and I considered proper, too. And why’d you say no?”

Aster shuffled his feet for a moment; Jack eyed him with interest. This would be enlightening. “Still don’t know what he’s doing with a old-as-dirt bloke like me. Just want him to be sure, is all.”

“Oh, for - damn it, Aster!” Jack looked apologetically back at his father, and cleared his throat. “Give me a moment, sir?”

His father looked amused. “Of course. Have fun.”

He… he almost remembered hearing the man, the living man, say that… the memory faded away like mist in sunlight, but it’d been there, and maybe it’d come back later, some night. If not, Tooth could probably jog it. Jack smiled faintly, and then turned on Bunny.

“You idiot, I love you. I’m always going to love you because I always have. You’ve been on my mind and in my heart since I first saw you, before I even joined WINTER, and if I were any more sure I’d probably carry some kind of ring around in my pocket waiting for a good chance to spring it on you! Like, y’know, any time you said hello?” He stepped closer, and drew himself up to his full height. “I’m sure about you, you idiot. Though I’m not always sure why, when you go and be stupid like this.”

Aster’s ears drooped in his version of a blush, though Jack noted with some amusement that his nose reddened too.

Jack heard a huff from behind him, and glanced back - ah. Aster’s mother. She glared at him, and Aster visibly quailed.

“Now you listen here, young man! You’ve got a lovely mate, asking you, _yet again_ , to marry him! I think you should do what you know is right!” She frowned severely at him, and waited, arms crossed in a gesture Jack had seen a thousand times on Aster.

Guess he knew where Aster got his temper from. Jack hid a grin, and looked back at Aster expectantly.

“Da’s not shown up,” Aster said slowly. “Which… means he’s alive, isn’t he?”

Jack’s spine shot ramrod straight, and he turned to look at her. She considered Bunny for a moment, before sighing.

“I’ve not seen him, no, so I expect he’s _somewhere_ around this galaxy. The idiot.”

Aster swallowed hard. “If there’s a wedding, I want him there. But…” he looked down at Jack, and smiled faintly. “Maybe a long engagement?”

Jack smiled happily, and nodded. “Sure. If we can find him, we will.” He paused, and visibly brightened. “Does this mean I get to go on a _spaceship_?”

Oh, he could just _see_ the sort of thing Aster was thinking. Jack in space. Jack punching all the buttons. Spreading ice and snow everywhere. Making Aster ‘fly’ through the air. Then Aster shuddered, and scowled down at him. “No.”

Jack whined, but relented. For now.

He turned around, and found his father silently laughing at him. He sobered after a moment, and nodded once at Jack, and again in Aster’s direction. Aster’s mother reappeared a moment later, and repeated the gesture in reverse.

Then they found themselves looking at Death again.

Jack twitched, and reached for Bunny’s hand. They met halfway, apparently both seeking comfort in each other.

“That’s not terribly nice, you know,” Jack admonished, frowning at the other spirit.

Death tilted his head inquiringly. “What do you mean?”

“Teasing us with our… loved ones.”

Death chuckled. “Who says I am teasing you, Joy?” He paused, considering them. “Given that the both of you have completed the Trials in their entirety, I wish to offer you a bit of a reward. If you will permit me to do so.”

“Depends on the reward.” Aster tugged Jack backwards, until he could wrap his arms around Jack’s front. “There’s plenty that could be considered a reward, and be nothing but hell to deal with.”

Death considered them for another moment in silence. “I enjoyed our time together, Joy. Hope. I would appreciate the company occasionally; it gets lonely sometimes, being the only one of my kind, and the only one with my duties. I would offer you time with your deceased, in exchange for a visit now and again. No tricks.”

Jack wasn’t the only one who twitched. “What kind of visit?” Jack asked. “I’ll be honest, I’m way off chess forever now.”

Death chuckled. “Whatever games of strategy you’d like. No giant, deadly games. I promise.”

“A trial run?” Aster suggested. “We can… set up a place you can visit. That sort of thing.”

Death nodded. “I’ll be in touch.” He shifted, and was suddenly several feet to the right. “Now, I must sadly inform you that the Seal is already broken, lest I would not be here. The Serpent will rise on the darkest of nights to come. I wish I could do more, but I am bound by the Seal’s restrictions to not interfere… otherwise, I would _gladly_ cut the creature down for daring to interfere with my duties.”

“So, you don’t want to end the world?” Jack asked, though the answer was kind of obvious now. “I thought you couldn’t kill? That you only harvest the souls?”

Death snorted. “I can kill, if I so choose. It is improper; everything in its time, and everything in its place. However, I would be willing to make a special _exception_ for one who has angered me so. Sadly, it is not possible; I must leave that task to the two of you.”

“Well, not just us,” Jack muttered, before shivering. Therapy, and a resignation. Both would help, though he was probably going to have nightmares for a while. “Yeah. How long will it have been topside?”

Death chuckled in that odd way of his. “Mere moments. To your friends, it will appear as if you entered, the doors shut, and then opened again immediately.” He started drifting in that not-movement way of his towards a door that just _appeared_ out of thin air. “If you would be so kind as to follow me?”

Jack nodded, and walked hand-in-hand with Aster towards the door. “Hey, Death?”

Death continued not-drifting forward, but cocked his head and said, “Yes, Joy?”

“Do you know where the other Pooka are?”

Death was silent until they reached the door. “The Serpent locked them away; out of fear, I expect. He holds the Key to their release.”

Aster sucked in a breath, and looked like someone had smacked him upside the head with a two-by-four. Jack had to admit he was surprised as well, but not quite so severely. “Why was he afraid of the Pooka?” he asked. “Unless you mean Pitch, when talking about fear.”

He walked a few steps, and then stopped. Jack wrinkled his nose. “Please, lie if you have to, please tell me Pitch and the Serpent weren’t having an affair.”

Death snorted. “Hardly. The Serpent views Pitch as a boot views an ant.”

Jack smirked. Loki loved that phrase.

“As to your question… the others you speak of. They were going to seal the Serpent away. Permanently. It took great offence at that.” Death paused at the door, and turned to gaze in their direction.

“Gee,” Jack muttered, and started walking again. “Can’t imagine why.”

Aster actually chuckled at that. “Bit hard to figure out the logic, yeah.”

Death turned towards Aster, and looked just past his shoulder. “I do believe you know at least one of the Sealed Ones, Hope. I cannot say whom they might be, however.”

“I imagine I know a lot of ‘em,” Aster said. “Won’t know for sure until we get ‘em back. And to that end…” He looked at the open doors, and lifted his chin.

He did pause, though, before walking past Death. “Thursdays are best. So far, things seem reluctant to all blow up on a Thursday.”

Death chuckled, nodded, and gestured them forward. “After you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaysurin's Commentary: "Dun dun dun, Big Bad Serpent up next. And I repeat, the Major Character Death tag is still up there."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "End of the world averted... for now."


	54. Chapter 54

**Friday, 31 Oct 2014 -- Outside the Nekromanteion, on the banks of the Acheron River, Epirus, Greece, 7:08 pm local time**

“Jack!” Raijin shouted the moment they stepped through the doorway.

He and Izanami rushed forward to meet Jack, who took several steps forward to meet them halfway. Aster hung back with Death, who’d paused in his not-movement when Raijin had shouted.

It was a better vantage point, or so he told himself. He was still reeling after the whole… everything. The maze, the injuries - which he’d have to shift away as soon as he’d gotten up the energy, because damn but his ribs hurt - the whole idea of the Heart test. Having to watch his mate shake like a man in the first stages of hypothermia, and not being able to reach out and smooth the dried tears off his cheeks.

Whatever Aster had gone through, it looked like Jack had gone through something equally painful. Only emotionally.

Physical injuries were easier to heal. Mental ones took longer.

Aster looked at Death, instead of watching Jack like a hawk. “Any more pearls of wisdom to share?” he asked. “Can’t figure why else you’re hanging around.”

Death tilted his head towards Aster and said, after a thoughtful pause, “There is someone who would like to speak before I go. I am allowing your friends time to rejoice before I interrupt.”

He frowned at that. “One of mine, one of Jack’s? One of the other Guardians’?”

Death remained silent, though he tilted his head towards Jack and the kitsune, as if in answer.

Aster looked at Jack, then at the two kitsune, and suddenly he knew. “You’ve lost your mind,” he snarled, turning fully on Death. “It’d hurt them!”

Death shrugged. “He has requested to speak with them; it is not my place to deny him that right.”

Hell. Bloody hell, even. This was going to end badly. Aster shook his head, and moved over to Jack.

“Mate,” he said, and carefully wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders from behind.

This was going to hurt the poor bastard, but not quite as much as the two… children, in a sense… he’d let into his home. “Something else.”

He looked over at the others, who were exactly where they’d left them, what felt like days ago. Looking confused, too. He smiled faintly, or tried to anyways, and mentally promised them all the explanations they wanted.

“Compassion. Benevolence,” Death said solemnly, pausing until he had the kitsune’s attention. “Please step forward.”

Jack twitched, startled and no doubt coming to the same conclusion as Aster. He tried to step between the two kitsune and Death, but Aster tightened his grip.

“I know,” he whispered into Jack’s ear, his bottom lip catching on Jack’s earlobe. “I know. I don’t like it any more than you do, but they’re grown, and he asked. Apparently, _he_ asked.”

Jack turned to him, an expression of equal parts horror, wonder, and hope on his face. Aster wasn’t sure which one was winning at this time.

The kitsune hesitantly stepped forward. Raijin asked softly, “Is there something you need of us, _Shinigami-sama_?”

Rather than answering, Death looked at Raijin.

Jack flinched violently in Aster’s hold, and he wasn’t the only one. The two kitsune gasped in unison, and reached to hold each other’s hands.

“Hey guys,” Kern whispered into the shocked silence, smiling softly at the kitsune.

He looked different than the last time Aster had seen him. He’d had the appearance of a dignified, older gentleman then - though he’d been as randy as a teenager. His hide had been a sort of soft gray, his fur a bit darker. Now, though, hide and fur were the same shade of golden brown, or as close as made no nevermind. His rack was a little smaller, but looked… healthier, was the word, Aster supposed. And he stood straight, taller, causing the Pooka to realize that Kern had been hunched over in life.

“Beloved,” Izanami whispered, and sniffled.

Raijin choked, and grasped Izanami’s hand tighter.

Kern’s smile never wavered, and he knelt down, holding his arms out to the side. “C’mere guys.”

This time, Jack held Aster back, when he made to move between… between Kern’s shade and the kitsune. Because they did move forward, slowly.

“He felt just as real as you are, when he looked like you. It’s okay,” Jack whispered thickly. “It’s... okay.”

So he stood, and watched as the kitsune curled into Kern’s shade, one to either side. Kern kept his gaze focused on… Raijin, it was, no doubt to keep out and about and not turn back into Death inadvertently when he looked away for a second, to look at Izanami. And the expression on the shade’s face brought a lump to Aster’s throat.

The kitsune were babbling, too softly for Aster to hear, but he wasn’t going to strain himself; no sense in invading their privacy. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the spectacle, though, no matter how hard he tried.

Kern’s grip tightened in response to something the Kitsune said, and he whispered, loud enough for Aster to hear, “I’m sorry. I wish the old…. Ah, it doesn’t matter what I wish, that’s over and done. I’m just glad I’ve got the chance to see you again. And apologize for leaving you in that way.”

He gently pried the Kitsune off of him, and set them, side-by-side, before him, one hand on each shoulder. Seemed he could look back and forth between them without vanishing that way. More whispering ensued, and hesitant nodding on the kitsune’s part, and then shaking of heads and more crying. Probably telling them he had to go soon, Aster mused sadly.

Without looking away from the kitsune, Kern called over, “Hey, Bunnymund. You take good care of mine, yeah?”

“Already taken care of,” he called back, and rested his chin on Jack’s head. “Nothing to worry about.”

Kern nodded, and glanced up at Jack questioningly.

“You’re an idiot,” Jack said thickly, and reached up to rub at his nose. “But you’ve always been _my_ idiot, and I never thumped it out of you, but damn it, Kern! I’ve already submitted the paperwork, you’re stuck with the awards and accolades you never wanted. Too bad and suck it up, idiot, they’ll be calling you ‘hero’ in under a year.”

Kern sighed dramatically, causing the Kitsune to giggle through their tears. “Suppose there’s nothing for it.” He drew the Kitsune back into a quick hug. “I need to go now. I’m sorry, and I love you both. So very much.”

The Kitsune murmured back in Japanese, and nuzzled under Kern’s chin. After another moment, Kern stepped back several feet, sighed heavily, and glanced away from everyone.

Death looked back up.

Jack muttered a curse, and slumped back against Aster. He was shaking again, harder this time. Aster held on tight, and vowed to skip the inevitable debrief.

“Well,” he said. “Is that it? Or is there anyone else who’s going to see loved ones tonight?”

Well, well, North looked sick at the idea. Poor bugger.

Death shook his head slowly. “No other has asked, at this time.” He tilted his head in Aster’s direction. “I’ll be in touch.”

And with that, Death drifted backwards at speed, through the doors of the temple, which slammed shut in his wake. The lights died down, and the ruin appeared as it had earlier in the evening a moment later.

The ordeal was over.

The Kitsune collapsed together, quietly crying. Aster released his hold on Jack, who rushed forwards to comfort them. The others rushed to him for answer.

Aster sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Saturday, 1 Nov 2014 -- Burrow, Warren, 3:58 am local time**

“I thought your ribs would’ve been healed by now,” Jack muttered while carefully wrapping the bandages around Aster’s chest. “I mean, you go on and on _and on_ about being a shapeshifter.”

Aster winced and hissed when Jack tugged.

“Sorry.”

“She’s right, mate. Keep going.” He paused, and winced again when Jack finished with his ribs. Jack sat back and looked up at him expectantly. He started to shrug, hissed, and thought better of the action. “Shifting takes energy. Energy I don’t have right now. I need rest, and a good meal, before I can heal.”

Jack frowned, and actually leaned back at that. “I can get you something to eat,” he murmured, and hunched his shoulders. “Just, uh, just lie down, okay?”

They got him settled on the divan in the living area which looked into the kitchen. Aster was glad for it; he could stare at Jack’s arse while he worked with the food.

Although he found himself watching the way Jack moved without his usual grace, instead of Jack’s arse. Things were dropped, though never on the floor. Every so often Jack would stop and stare into space, or his memories, before reaching for whatever he wanted next. The shaking came and went, never very much, and, most probably, Jack never noticed.

It was worrying. Aster told himself not to do anything, and actually sat on his hands to keep from fidgeting. But the moment Jack brought the food over… he was going to use his mate as a pillow, maybe that would help.

Aster must have dozed off, because, next thing he knew, he was startled awake by Jack setting a plate next to him on the coffee table.

“Sorry Bunny, I didn’t mean to wake you. Would you rather sleep?”

“Nah, and not here,” He murmured. He blinked sleepily, a bit more than he actually felt, and then leaned into Jack. “Y’smell good, mate.”

Jack curled around his upper body in a half-hug, mindful of Aster’s ribs.

“C’mere, mate. I need a pillow,” Aster said, grinning up at Jack.

Jack blinked, and then laughed. Sort of. There was a touch of humor to the sound, at least. “Alright. You are the injured warrior, I guess I can indulge you.” He sat down, and Aster adjusted the both of them until Jack was reclining against the divan arm, and Aster had his head pillowed on Jack’s chest.

“Pass me a sandwich square, won’t you?” Aster rubbed his cheek against Jack’s diaphragm, and looked up from under his eyebrows. “I can’t make out the plate, exactly. I’d probably knock it to the floor, ruin the sandwiches. And you make good ones; it’d be such a waste.”

Jack laughed again, with better humor. “Alright. Since you flatter me.” He reached over, and picked up one of the squares. They’d been cut down to bite size, until they were practically finger food. “Here.”

Aster happily ate from Jack’s fingers, and licked them clean when he’d finished.

“Ah!” Jack pulled his hand away, and then tapped his fingers against Aster’s nose. “That tickles.”

He reached over, and selected a sandwich square at random. “So you can repay the favor,” Aster said, and held it to Jack’s lips.

Jack’s mutinous expression at Aster’s ability to grab food, despite his pleas of inability, immediately softened, and he obligingly opened his mouth. Jack attempted to lick Aster’s fingers clean in retaliation, but ended up sputtering about fur in his mouth. Aster laughed, though that turned into a pained wince after about two seconds.

“Hey.” Jack rubbed his hands up and down Aster’s back and shoulders. “You okay?” He paused, and winced. “Yeah, okay, stupid question.”

Aster half-shrugged, with his good side, and proffered another sandwich square. They traded off feeding each other until the plate was empty. Jack started gently petting Aster’d head, and rubbing lightly at the base of his ears, as they finished.

Aster hummed, and pressed into the touch. “That’s nice,” he murmured, and shifted. “Want to move off this bloody couch and into bed?”

Jack grinned, although noticeably dimmer than usual, and nodded. “Yeah, lets. Want help up?”

“My pride says no,” Aster muttered, and winced when he shifted to let Jack slide out from under him. “My body, however, demands it.”

Jack helped him up off the couch, and curled carefully into his side. They hobbled down the hall, and got him settled snugly amongst the pillows and blankets. Jack dimmed the lights, and still commented on how strange they were even after all this time, before turning and considering him.

Aster’s eyebrow twitched. “Wot?”

Jack pulled off his hoodie and threw it to the side, and then immediately moved to his belt.

Aster raised his eyebrows. Jack naked was always a nice sight. “Are you planning something, here, mate?”

Jack glanced up through his bangs. “Maaaybe. Depends on if you feel up to some fun.”

Jack’s pants fell to his feet and he kicked them to the side. Aster swallowed at the sight of all that pale, unmarred skin before him.

“Gerrover here,” he growled, and shifted the blankets over him.

Jack crawled into the nest, and he pressed up against Aster’s side. He began to shake again, and clutched handfuls of fur. Aster kept his arm wrapped around Jack’s shoulder, and waited.

“You’re okay?” Jack nuzzled against Aster’s chest. “Really okay?”

Aster’s nuzzled back, into Jack’s hair. “Nothing that won’t heal by morning. No worries, mate.”

Jack took a deep breath, and shifted to press his lips against Aster’s. The kiss was hesitant, on Jack’s side at least. Worried about hurting Aster, maybe? He shifted, and ran his fingers through that silky hair, before cupping the back of Jack’s head and pulling him closer. He lapped at Jack’s mouth, and hummed in encouragement when Jack opened his lips.

It seemed only natural for Jack to shift, until he was sprawled on top of Aster. His hands bracketed the Pooka’s head, because his mate was ever so concerned about Aster’s ribs. For his part, Aster couldn’t be bothered with caring. His mate needed comfort and care, and he was in position to give both.

Adjusting their positions further, Aster moved his hands to rest on Jack’s hips, bracing but not pressing; he’d already decided that he’d let Jack take what he needed first.

Apparently, what Jack needed was to grind down against Aster’s lap. Aster spread his legs, and Jack shifted until he was kneeling between them.

“You sure?” he asked, and looked around. “Where’s the lube?”

Jack bent forward, trailing kisses up Aster’s chest, before leaning over his head to nibble on an ear tip. When he sat back, the bottle of lube was resting in his palm, and a wide grin was plastered over his face.

“Found it,” he said, tone light, as he popped the bottle open.

“So I see.” Aster caught Jack’s other hand, and pulled until he could kiss the palm and nibble on the tips of Jack’s fingers. “Gonna smirk or put it to use?”

Rather than answering, Jack poured the fluid onto on hand, capped the bottle, and tossed it aside. Aster hissed when Jack reach behind him and grasped the Pooka’s length and began covering it in lube. Jack hissed in turn when he moved his hand to prepare himself, though that took almost no time at all. Either Jack was overly ready, or he was in a hurry.

Aster frowned. He’d have thought Jack would top, but obviously not. “Need any help getting on?” he asked, and took hold of his erection.

Jack didn’t answer. Not verbally, anyways. He moved forward, and guided Aster inside himself. From the expression on Jack’s face, Aster braced for something hard and fast.

It was not what he got.

Jack stayed seated for a moment, and stroked Aster’s cheeks and neck. “I was worried about you,” he said thickly. Either with unshed tears, or the emotion that had him shaking faintly again. He began to lift himself up onto his knees, going up halfway and staying there for another long moment, before sinking again.

Aster sighed, and reached up for Jack. He drew his mate down and pressed careful kisses to Jack’s mouth, his forehead, his cheeks and his nose, and then simply held him close while they moved together. “I’m right here,” he promised. “I’m still here and I’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

Jack hummed softly, or crooned maybe. It was hard to tell, but the sound was both sad and happy at the same time. Aster redoubled his efforts, and soon the sad sound was replaced with gasps and soft moans.

Much better. Certainly, Jack had started smiling, ever-so-slightly, so something must’ve been right.

Aster shifted until they were pressed cheek to cheek and chest to chest, and began to stroke and sooth. Jack shuddered under his hands, but it wasn’t the distraught shivering of before. Good. This was eager, pleasured, and he could feel his mate relaxing into the touches.

It took longer than usual for them to finish, not that Aster or Jack seemed to mind, and after, Jack simply laid down atop him, with Aster’s cock still firmly seated inside. He sighed again, this time in contentment. Aster pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Feeling better, mate?”

“Yeah.” Jack rubbed his cheek against Aster’s collarbone like a satisfied cat, and sighed again. “What… what happened during your trial? I know about the Sphinx, but Death said you were facing Cerberus.”

Aster grunted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that Sphinx was a real piece of work. Apparently, answering her questions correctly twice in a row gets her… excited. And after the third answer, well, let’s just say she wouldn’t take _no_ for an answer.” He smirked. “Admittedly, I don’t think she expected a ‘no’ to be a knee to the balls.”

Jack growled, and flexed his fingers against Aster’s ribs. “You couldn’t have castrated the bastard? I know real rabbits castrate each other during mating season…” He paused, and added, “With their _feet_.”

“Well, she had me pinned quite unexpectedly. Knees were all that were available.”

“She?” Jack asked, bemused.

Aster half-shrugged with his good side. “Hermaphrodite; Sphinx’s always prefer ‘she’ unless they’re only male, although those are very rare. It’s a cultural thing.” Aster half-shrugged again. “As for the aggressiveness… cat, so not unexpected.”

“Oh.” Jack made a face, and apparently set that aside with everything else he liked ignoring. “I still think you could’ve torn his - uh, her - balls off.”

“She outweighed me by probably… three, four times? Didn’t want to tussle with that. Better to knee and run.” He tapped Jack on the nose, grinning when he scrunched it up cutely. “A smart warrior knows when to retreat strategically.”

“You mean never?” Jack suggested, and smiled. “And Cerberus, after that?”

“Oh, I kicked his ass,” Aster said, trying valiantly to keep a straight face. And failing, if Jack’s doubtful expression was anything to go by.

“You ran screaming from an old, slow greyhound,” Jack pointed out. “And screamed like a little girl that just found a frog in her underwear drawer.”

Aster huffed, and muttered, “So maybe I strategically retreated until I could figure out a better solution.”

Jack poked him in the good side, and raised his eyebrows in wordless demand.

Sighing, he relented. “Right, right. So eventually, I ran out of room to run, and Cerberus had me in a tight spot. I, well, okay, I figured I was done for. One of the heads came forward and snuffled at me. I closed my eyes, and then… nothing happened.”

“Nothing?” Jack smoothed a hand over Aster’s shoulder, but seemed content with his explanation so far.

“When I peeked at him, he was sitting all nice and at attention, begging,” Aster said, a grin forming as he spoke. “Apparently, Cerberus likes chocolate.”

Jack snorted. “I thought chocolate was bad for dogs. Didn’t you have that nice, long, repetitive talk with Sophie about it?”

Aster nodded. “Cerberus is a spirit first, and a dog second. So it’s perfectly safe.”

“You bribed the big, bad, guardian of the underworld with spare chocolate.” Jack sighed, and snuggled in comfortably. “I should’ve figured.”

Aster wrapped his arm around Jack, and added, smugly, “He even gave me a ride to the top of the cliffside, where the goal was.”

“Cheap date,” was Jack’s opinion.

They laid in silence for several minutes, soaking up each other’s presence. Eventually, Aster softened enough that he slipped out of Jack, who whined in protest, but didn’t move to correct the situation.

“We can always go again, later,” Aster noted with some amusement, before sobering. “How’d your trial go?”

Jack stiffened. Ah, here was the problem.

“It sucked,” Jack muttered. “Chess. And none of the fun versions.”

“Care to elaborate, or do I start guessing? I must say, though, with Death’s reputation as a chess player, I’m impressed you won.”

Jack remained silent for several minutes. The flattery seemed to have gone over his head, or he’d noticed and decided to ignore it. “D’you remember the giant chess pieces in the first Harry Potter?”

Aster hummed in thought, before nodding. “Yeah, I do- oh. _Oh_. Dangerous then?”

“Well, I was king…” Jack sucked in a deep breath. “And you were one of my rooks. Odin, Anika, Weyland… my pawns were Wendigo, of all things.”

Aster blinked. That explained a lot, especially…

“Jack, how many pieces were left when you won?”

“Me and Death combined? Or just me?”

“Yes,” he said, grin firmly in place as he attempted to lighten the mood.

Jack smacked him lightly on the shoulder. For the mathematician's answer if nothing else. “Four. Me, Death, one pawn… his… and one knight. Mine. Gerda, with a polar bear.”

Rather than saying anything, Aster nuzzled Jack’s head, chinning him. “Dare I ask what piece took mine?”

“Chupacabra.”

“Ah.” That explained Jack’s behavior. Chupacabra’s were very messy killers.

Aster adjusted their positions until he was laying on his good side and Jack could curl up under the blankets into a little ball against his chest, and then he curled around him, cocooning him. The fistfuls of fur Jack was holding were a touch painful, but nothing he couldn’t ignore.

“It’s alright Jackie. I’m here, I’m safe, and I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured softly into Jack’s hair.

“I know, but… you don’t understand. I knew what was going to happen. I ordered every piece, and I knew, I could see what was coming, but…” Jack sucked in a breath, but he wasn’t shaking anymore. “The pieces looked like everyone I cared about, and I still…”

“Sssh, sssh. I know, I know.” Aster pet Jack’s hair, and tucked him closer against his chest, and continued muttering platitudes to sooth him. “It’s alright. We’re all alright. It’s okay….”

“I gave the orders. And they died. And I didn’t break.” Jack closed his eyes, and even lying down, managed to slump against Aster. “I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

He nuzzled Jack’s hair again. “Good onya, mate. You did good. Don’t worry about it right now. We’re home, we’re safe,” he said, pausing until Jack looked up at Aster’s grin. “We can get you a therapist in the morning.”

Jack actually laughed at that. “Y’know, I had that thought pretty much the entire time. Therapy when it was all over. Win, then go camp out until the therapists wanted to kill me.”

Aster chuckled despite himself. “I hear the ‘Demon Nurse’ knows a good few.”

“Woah, no.” Jack shifted, and draped one leg over Aster’s. “No one Gretchen recommends. She hates me, remember?”

“She hates you _as a patient_ ,” Aster corrected. “She holds nothing against you personally.” His grin turned sly. “I would know; she told me as much, and then made me promise not to say anything.”

“Oooh, breaking faith.” Jack wiggled closer, and stared at him from under hooded eyelids. “That’s not good, Bunny-butt. That’s not good at all.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, right after that, she stuck me with a large needle,” Aster added dryly. “You know the one; you usually try to run screaming when she so much as looks at it.”

“I never run screaming,” Jack said. He reached down between them, and cupped Aster’s sheathe. “I might retreat in the face of absurd adversity, but I never, ever run screaming.”

“Not even ‘get that fucking thing away from me’?” Aster teased. “I could have _sworn_ -”

Jack snorted, and squeezed Aster’s sheathe with infinite gentleness and limited patience. “Shut up and make love to me, idiot.”

Aster laughed. “Aye aye, captain!”

He muffled Jack’s laughter with a kiss that turned hot, fast, and, well, there was little talking after that.

Unless you counted “more” and “faster” as talking.

Aster didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Everyone keeps worrying about how often I point out the Major Character Death tag, so how about this? Major Character: Death. Feel better?"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Well, I'm rather satisfied with how this chapter went. How about everyone else?" ^_^


	55. Chapter 55

**Sunday, 2 Nov 2014 -- Fortress, Antarctica, 2:45 pm local time**

The silence rang like a gong when Odin finished reacting to the report. Jack wasn’t the only one scrawling out choice quotes in a notebook; the rant had seen multiple new and creative uses for the word ‘fuck’, and the return of several outdated Norse curses that sounded all the more potent for the long rest. Odin seemed oblivious to the reactions people had had to his… unique monologue, since he turned and stared out the window, panting slightly.

“So you’re telling me,” he said, voice gone low and menacing, turning and pointing two fingers at Jack, “That this final seal thing is undone and some fucking nasty _thing_ is gonna come out and try killing the planet. That’s what you’re telling me?”

Jack swallowed, and nodded slowly. Odin’s intensity, directed at the air, was funny. At him? Scary.

By Odin’s expression, he was considering a new, even more vulgar monologue. Somehow, he refrained. “Thor, Loki, wake Jormungandr.”

Jack wasn’t the only one to gape at Odin’s command, Thor and Loki included.

Aster leaned over to Jack, and raised his eyebrows in silent question.

“Jor isn’t like Fenrir.” Jack licked his lips, and looked around the table. Everyone stared back at him, wide-eyed - well, except Odin, who was staring at the window like it had personally offended him. “Fenrir has the wolf-pack thing. After Odin curb-stomped him the one time - not literally, don’t give me that look - he was a-okay with working for the man. Jor… uh. Yeah, if I didn’t know better, I’d say this end of the world prophecy was about _Jor_ , not… you know.”

Aster blinked at Jack, and leaned back. “Huh,” was his distinct opinion on the matter. “I, ah… I see.”

“Yeah… Are you sure, Odin?” Jack wilted under the Norse god’s glare. “I just mean, isn’t this like summoning Godzilla?”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but I _don’t_ answer to you. Unfortunately, since this isn’t a tyranny, and just an oligarchy…” Odin folded his arms, and looked distinctly unhappy about being part of an oligarchy. “It’s time for the mother-fucking Godzilla option.”

Jack shared a look with Anika and Mstislav, who both indicated that it was Jack’s decision. They were abstaining until he voted. Jack glared at them; cowards.

He looked back at Odin, who narrowed his eye in warning. “You know, the Godzilla option only comes up when there’s for sure no other options available. The bad guy… Okay, yeah, I felt all of five years old saying that. Does anyone else feel all of five years old when they refer to an entity of pure evil as ‘the bad guy’? Show of hands anyone?” He raised both of his.

Most of the people at the table rolled their eyes at Jack’s antics, rather than joining in, but he got two hands from Sandy - four, if you counted the sand - so whatever, it was worth it. He looked over at Aster, who sighed, and raised one of his. Jack grinned at him; _good_ boyfriend.

Odin slammed his hand down on the table, and slowly everyone lowered their hands. “Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t get Jormungandr up here and ready.” _Or I’ll throw you into the ocean for fish food,_ he didn’t say. But he implied it, oh yes he did. Odin was very good at that.

Jack swallowed, and put a bit of iron into his spine, which wanted to wilt like cooked spaghetti. “It’s only November… first? Second? Whatever. According to Death, the Unsub - hah, that’s better - isn’t going to wake up until the darkest night of the year. Which, first night of a genocide or massacre aside, probably going to be the winter solstice.”

Edwin raised his hand at that. Odin stared at him for several seconds, before sighing gustily, and gesturing for him to speak.

“Right. Well, the solstice is the most likely candidate, yes. Did you know it’s a new moon this year? If not, I could go over the lunar cycle-”

“No!” several people shouted in tandem.

Jack stifled a giggle. Odin would glare a hole through him, his chair, and the wall behind him if he did.

“A new moon?” Aster looked around the table. “On the winter solstice? There’s dark nights, and then there’s what this one’ll be. Think about it.”

Frowning, Jack turned to look at Odin. “... how long does it take Jor to wake up? Usually?”

“A week to twelve days.” Odin reached up and rubbed under his eye patch. “Though he hasn’t woken in quite some time, it might take longer.”

Jack nodded slowly, thinking. “Aaand how much does he eat?”

“How is the blue whale population doing right now?”

General Winter cleared his throat. “Perhaps giant squid would be better? They aren’t quite as endangered, I do believe.”

Jack looked back to Odin for an answer. He looked over at Edwin, who blinked several times before going “Ah.”

Edwin rummaged around in the pile of papers in front of him and then found and opened a file. After a cursory glance, he cleared his throat.

“Ah… three blue whales would suffice. _Colossal_ squid, not giant, would require something on the order of _one thousand_ or more squid.”

Jack gestured madly at Edwin. “Why do you _have_ that information? What possible reason would cause you to _gather_ it? What the hell!”

Edwin blinked at Jack several times, and then started speaking slowly, as if to a small child, “Because… it’s… useful?”

Right. This was Edwin. It was simpler just to bang his head against the table, and hurt less.

Aster, good boyfriend that he was, slid his paw between Jack’s forehead and the table’s surface for head-against-desk number two. Aster then cleared his throat, garnering the attention of the table.

“Why not try the Southern Right Whale? It’s not endangered, though they’re only about half the size of the blue whales. You’d want six, maybe seven?” he offered, shifting his paw from under Jack’s head to on top of it, and started petting his hair absently.

Jack peeked to the side at him, and smiled. _Good_ boyfriend.

Good boyfriends deserved treats.

Later. Now would piss off Odin more, and no one wanted _that_.

Well, except Loki, but he could get in trouble all on his own. Loki was used to it; that was not a relationship, or mindset, Jack wanted to examine. Ever.

“Southern Right Whale, then,” Odin said, and pointed at Thor and Loki. “Take care of it. We’ll set one damn snake on another. There’s nothing yet the damn idiot can’t eat.”

Jack sat up - and immediately missed Aster’s paw when it left off petting his head - sighed, and said, “Fine, fine. You can wake the damn serpent.” He paused, frowning. “Does this mean I _finally_ get to meet the giant serpent of doom?”

“No,” Loki drawled. “Jor would eat you, darling child of mine that he is. I doubt you would enjoy the experience.”

“But surely you can make him _not_ ,” Jack whined.

“Assuredly, no, Loki cannot control mine nephew,” Thor put in. “He is most voracious and nearly as stubborn.”

“But Jor won’t eat _Loki_.”

“I’m his _mother_.”

Jack’s head met table again. Or rather, paw. Aster was quicker this time.

“I wanna pet the giant snake,” he muttered into the wood. “It’s not _fair_.”

“I’ll find you a nice, big boa,” Aster promised. “Just please stop whining about the sea serpent of doom apparently capable of fighting pure evil in snake form, alright mate?”

Jack peeked at Aster over the fur on his paw. “Anaconda? A _biiig_ one?”

Aster smiled back. “You’re so bloody spoiled, you are.”

Odin slammed his hand on the table again, once more drawing everyone’s attention. “Charming,” he drawled, looking ready to chew up an iron bar and spit nails. “One of my Regents acting like a whining infant. Good to know. If we can move _on_ , people?”

Jack stuck his tongue out at Odin. “Fine, fine, party pooper, you can have your giant snake of doom.”

Odin stopped looking like he was ready for an iron bar, and more like he was ready to end the world early. “You’re on thin ice, Jack,” he warned, before looking around the table. “Anika? Mstislav?”

The other two Regents glanced at Jack, before turning back to Odin and nodding. Jack blinked.

“What, is it my day to approve _everything_?” he complained. Loudly.

General Winter studied his fingernails. “You were the one to speak directly with Death. You and Bunnymund, I should say. Direct experience is invaluable.”

Jack stuck his tongue out at Mstislav, and, for good measure, flipped him off too, before turning back to Odin. “So, gramps, anything else? Or can I go to my therapy session now?”

The old god’s expression actually softened at that. “The meeting is currently adjourned. Further planning will have to wait until closer to the day of reckoning.”

The room was immediately abuzz with chatter and groups of agents broke off to discuss the meeting and what they’d need to do. The little cliques slowly filed out of the room; Odin, Weyland, Anika, and the other agents who performed as his chess pieces made a point of stopping next to him and touching his shoulder for a moment before they exited.

Aster stroked Jack’s hair once they were alone. “Do you really have an appointment up next, or was that just to get everyone gone before Odin let loose with another buncha bad words?”

Jack glanced at the now-shut door, and then checked the room. They were alone. _Finally_.

“Well, kinda? It’s in a couple hours, actually,” he said, grinning sheepishly at Bunny. “I was just so _done_ with Odin’s attitude.”

“Bastard does have a bit of an attitude, don’t he?” Aster smiled back, and then nuzzled at the soft skin just under Jack’s ear. “Not gonna say he hasn’t done stuff to justify it, but bit annoying in large doses.”

Jack got up and moved into Aster’s lap. “I think I just want to cuddle for a bit. There’s a nice couch over in the corner. Carry me?”

For good measure, Jack turned his ‘puppy dog look’ on Bunny. Just in case.

Aster snorted, but lifted the frail-looking winter spirit into his arms anyways. “I won’t be spoiling you forever,” he warned. “But I reckon a little bit right now can’t hurt you any.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Thursday, 27 Nov 2014 -- Workshop, evening**

“Is - is that an emu?” Jack asked, sounding equal parts horrified and intrigued. The last time Aster had heard that tone… well, he’d been showing off a few ‘mythological’ weapons that did some very, very fun things in the right hands.

North paused in his preparations to attack the - giant cooked bird of some sort? - thing with knives. Aster knew that gleam in North’s eyes, and it promised much slicing and dicing, and not a lot of finesse. The old Cossack looked up at Jack and grinned.

“It’s not an emu! It’s an Osturducken! My own recipe!” North boomed, and then attacked the bird with a vengeance.

“A…” Jack turned to Sandy and Tooth, clearly aware that Aster wouldn’t have a clue. And he didn’t. Though he could guess. It took understanding North’s unique and personal insanity, but he’d known the madman a few centuries. He could guess.

Aster cleared his throat to get Jack’s attention. “I’m going to hazard a guess that he means a chicken inside of a duck, inside of a turkey, inside of… an _ostrich_?” Aster blinked when he realized that last point. “ _Why’d you cook an ostrich?_ ”

“Very tasty, you silly Bunny. Very good meat, healthier than beef, from easy-to-raise bird that doesn’t hurt the land as much as cow.” North sniffed, and then stabbed the… creation… with one knife to hold it steady. “Jack! You want breast or leg?”

Jack turned and stared helplessly at Aster. “I… I don’t eat food with faces,” he said, stammering a bit. “So unless you’ve got, like, fried mealworms -” He paused for everyone to make a face; Aster wrinkled his nose, while Tooth was valiantly holding back a gag, and North looked confused and disgusted. Sandy, who didn’t have to eat, was clearly paying them a bare minimum of attention. “- Hey, don’t knock it until you try it, they taste good. But anyways, I eat insects and seafood. No birds, no beasts…”

North frowned severely at him, and then turned to Aster. “I blame you.” Before Aster could open his mouth, North turned to Tooth and Sandy. “Breast or leg?”

“Vegetarian,” Tooth said serenely. “At least when the choice is poultry or vegetable. Or did you forget?” She adjusted her feathers along one forearm pointedly.

Sandy just drank more eggnog.

Desperate now, North turned to look at Quetza and the kitsune. “Breast or leg?” he asked, plaintively. “Or do you three not eat meat either?”

Izanami stared at him as if he’d started speaking in Pig Latin, and then shook her head. “Fox,” she said, and pointed to Raijin and said, again, “Fox.”

Raijin snorted, and pointed at the two ostrich legs. “One of each for both of us.”

Quetza chuckled, pointed at himself, and said, “Snake. I’ll take some too.”

Jack pointed at the two Kitsune. “Eat _some_ vegetables.”

They glared at him for a moment, and then took one spoonful of stuffing each.

Aster placed one hand on Jack’s. “It’s a holiday. Let them eat an unbalanced meal once this year.”

Jack snorted, and leaned back in his chair. “This is going to end so very badly. Balanced doesn’t mean left and right!” he snapped at the Kitsune. “Or light and dark meat!”

They very obviously ignored him, and eyed the ham with predatory intensity.

Phil tapped Jack on the shoulder. He looked over and found the yeti holding a covered serving tray, and gesturing at Jack to take it.

Aster took the tray instead, and set it on the table. He pulled off the lid, and frowned. “That’s a bird…?”

“Tofurkey,” Jack diagnosed, and then smiled. “Phil, you’re my new non-romantic favorite!”

Phil muttered something in Yettish, which Jack responded to happily, leading Aster to shake his head in disgust, yet again, at Jack’s ability to understand the yeti; no one in their right mind learned _Yettish_ who wasn’t a yeti. Or North.

“It’s just for us,” Jack said, gesturing at the tofurkey. “Phil thinks we can eat the whole thing, he knows my appetite and is pretty sure how much you’ll want to eat. If there’s leftovers he’ll have them packaged up for us.”

Aster paused at that. “Well, alright. I suppose she’ll do. Thanks, Phil.”

Phil rumbled in amusement, and patted Aster heavily between the ears. It was enough to give a respectable Pooka a headache, so he swatted at the hairy ham-hand and glared until the yeti go the message and went away.

Phil shrugged, mumbled something to Jack, who laughed, and wandered back towards the kitchens. Aster narrowed his eyes at Jack.

“What’d he say?” Aster asked warily.

“What, you don’t understand Yettish?”

“I don’t speak grunt.”

Jack stared at him for a moment, before a bright, knowing grin stole across his face.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Aster started, and stole a knife from North’s collection. One that hadn’t been used yet, because cross-contamination wasn’t fun.

“You don’t like Yettish because it’s not _pretty_ , like Pookan,” Jack teased as he turned to gather fruits, vegetables, potatoes, and that strange cranberry sauce that came in a can and looked like a jelly of some sort.

“That’s not why,” Aster countered. He started carving the tofurkey, and slid several slices onto Jack’s plate. “That is not - it’s a dull, uninspired language made up of grunting, Jack, how can you _possibly_ get complex ideas across like that? It sounds like something a middle aged human would come up with while scratching his ba- er, his groin.”

Jack fluttered his eyelashes at him. “Id est, _not pretty_.”

“Id - oh, right.” Aster slid a slice of tofurkey onto his plate, and frowned at Jack’s resulting expression. “I’m gonna try it first.”

“No,” North said, suddenly clear over the rest of the noise in the room. “The duck is mine. The entire duck is mine. I am not sharing the duck, it is _mine_.”

Aster glanced over at the other end of the table. It looked like the kitsune were cajoling North into sharing the duck, with expected results. He snorted, and turned to Jack.

“Don’t suppose they know how much North likes his duck, do they?”

Jack didn’t look over. “Eh, they’ll learn. He won’t stab them, will he?”

Aster eyed North, gauging his emotional state. “Probably not.” He paused, and then added, “Probably.”

Jack paused himself, with a forkful of stuffing halfway to his mouth, and then shrugged. “Eh, they’ll learn.”

They ate in companionable silence for all of a minute before Jack giggled.

“Wot?” The fake turkey was actually rather good, and didn’t taste too much like meat at all - no doubt a culinary decision based on the fact that Aster hated the meat-taste.

Jack giggled again, and pointed at Quetza. “While the kitsune and North were arguing over the duck, he stole the chicken.”

Quetza somehow heard Jack, and looked over with a pleased smirk - before unhinging his jaw and eating an entire chicken leg whole.

Aster looked away from the lump traveling down the snake’s throat. “Uh,” he said. It didn’t help that Jack looked _considering_ again. “No. No bets, no dares. No.”

“What, you don’t think he can swallow the entire chicken whole?”

“That’d be a waste of good chicken,” Quetza noted primly, before grinning wickedly. “But I totally can.”

Jack looked around the table. “We need something the right size,” he muttered. “What’s the same size as the chicken?”

At which point the two kitsune realized the chicken had been stolen.

The ensuing argument between Quetza, Raijin, and Izanami was a sight. In the end, the chicken was divided between them by happenstance - it’d been caught in a three-way tugging match and broke apart, each one holding some part of the poor, defenseless bird. When it’d ripped, they all paused and stared at each other, before shrugging as one and proceeding to eat their parts.

“A hunk of ostrich!” Jack yelled, and pointed at the remaining parts of the ostrich carcass. “Quetza! I dare you to swallow a chunk of ostrich whole! Chicken-sized!”

Tooth rubbed her forehead with one hand, and pointed at Quetza with the other. “ _No_.”

Quetza paused, mid-reach, and whined at her, “But he _dared_ me.”

“You’re not five.”

“But-”

“No.”

Quetza wasn’t the only one to sulk, he was just the only one to do so _quietly_. Aster cuffed Jack upside the head - gently enough, all things told - and glared at the Kitsune. And then at Sandy.

“Wot, d’you all want to see him choke to death on a bird?”

Raijin snickered and looked ready to say something crass, but Izanami bit his ear and distracted him quite handily.

Aster watched, out of the corner of his eye, North lean towards Quetza and whisper, at a level only Aster’d be able to hear, “I have extra in kitchen. We try later, да?”

Quetza brightened up, and grinned over at Jack. He nodded towards North, wagged his scaley eyebrows, and then sobered up when Tooth glared at him.

“What are you two whispering about?” she asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“We are just discussing finer points of cooking birds!” North boomed before he resumed eating.

Tooth looked like she believed North about as much as she believed in an invisible pink unicorn - which was to say, not at all. She didn’t say anything, though; she just ladled several large scoops of broccoli onto Quetza’s plate and quietly murmured “chew” when he stared at the greenery.

“But… _vegetables_ ,” was murmured back in a tone that was normally reserved for being told that you had to clean the stables. Bare-handed.

“But, your health,” Tooth replied, not quite as quietly.

Aster snickered, and took a healthy portion of broccoli onto his own plate. The expression on Quetza’s face was well worth the odd bit of green suddenly caught in his teeth. Especially when he took a large bite and Tooth beamed at him, before turning to glare at Quetza and pointing sternly at his plate.

Quetza pouted for a moment, shrugged, and dumped the plate’s contents down his gullet in one swallow. He grimaced, and gagged, but managed to keep it down.

“I told you to _chew_ ,” Tooth reminded him, just before the Kitsune started to chant for Quetza to do it again.

Aster turned to Jack, who was giggling next to him, and rolled his eyes. “Are _all_ WINTER agents _five year olds_?”

“Oh, Bunny.” Jack grinned at him, and turned to the rest of the table. “Hey! Lookit this!” he yelled, and started tossing - what was that, bits of carrot? - into the air one at a time and catching it in his mouth.

Aster sighed and turned back to his plate, resolutely ignoring everyone else as he ate. Still, he mused, it was good to see Jack so happy, and a sight better than the last few weeks, what with all the work he’d been doing.

Jack’s therapy had taken precedence, of course, and quite obviously it’d done the winter spirit good. Instead of nightmares nearly every hour, there’d be the occasional unsettled dream where Jack twitched a bit, but no screaming, and no waking up crying and all but trying to crawl inside Aster’s skin. The sex that resulted had always been mind blowing and emotional, but not necessarily in a mentally healthy way.

But between the therapy and all the meetings, training - Jack teaching younger agents, that is - and _more meetings_ , they’d hardly had any time together until Jack came home, scarfed a plate of food, and fell into bed, exhausted.

Aster’d gotten more attention from Jack in the past few weeks during the ‘Jack wants to feel better after a nightmare’-sex than at any other time. Just because he understood didn’t mean he didn’t resent it, just a bit.

Jack was his mate. _His_.

Just as he thought that, Jack leaned over in his chair and bumped shoulders with the Pooka. “It would ruin dinner if you pinned me against the wall and did M-rated things to my body,” he whispered, in a way that only Aster could pick up on. And the kitsune, apparently, who started giggling from across the room. “Either that, or whatever your problems with cranberry sauce are, they can wait.”

Aster glanced down at the aforementioned cranberry sauce on his plate - how’d that get on his plate, anyway? - and found it a pile of mushy froth. “Oh, ah… oops?”

Jack snickered, and bumped shoulders with Aster again. “You’re adorable,” he said, and turned to yell something across the table at North, who was holding forth about something - rockets? - with a great deal of volume. And someone had given him vodka. Oh, joy.

Aster sat back, and realized he was grinning.

Jack poked him in the shoulder with his finger. “See? I told you that you’d have fun.”

Aster couldn’t find it within himself to deny it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "After dinner, Quetza did in fact eat a whole chicken. He did not choke. He did, however, suffer from an upset stomach for two days. Tooth was not amused."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Aster gave in to Thanksgiving because Jack asked. With favors." *sly grin*


	56. Chapter 56

**Sunday, 21 Dec 2014 -- Fortress, 11°21’ N 142°12’ E, 3:45 pm local time**

“There are a total of three thousand, two hundred and fourteen other doors. Why the fuck did you have to use _mine_?” At this point, Aster figured Odin was just going on about his complaint more out of habit.

Still, he felt it totally appropriate to respond with, “It’s the most centrally located, and you have _two_ doors into your office. Deal.”

Odin glowered at him, and the long line of agents being handed weaponry. “You’d better remove the access to your Closet, then,” he muttered. Again.

“I told you already, the spatial and temporal displacement of the extradimensional space is entirely linked to the Key I used to open the door. It’s perfectly safe Pookan technology, and hasn’t harmed your office in the slightest. In fact, it’s completely safe to be in the room. I-” Aster paused, looking up from the sword he was handing a raven agent. “Would advise against trying to open the other side of the door in the office. You don’t want to see the backside of the extradimensional space; it’s… weird.”

“I fucking hate you right now.”

Aster smirked, and then frowned. Oh, the spear must’ve gotten mixed up with the swords.

Well, no matter; he had the companion shield laying nearby anyway. Glancing about, he saw what he was looking for. “You.”

“Me?” the random kitsune asked warily.

Aster had noticed how he’d been eyeing the shields a while ago. “You use spear and shield, yeah?”

“Um… yes?”

“Good. Here, take that shield, and this spear. They’re companions.” Aster passed the spear over after the kitsune hefted the shield. “Just be careful with them; I’d like them back in one piece. Like all of my equipment, they’re unique.”

The kitsune looked down at the spear and shield, and then up. And then over at Odin, at which point the youngster cringed. “Do they explode if separated?”

Aster laughed. “Nah, ya dill. They’re just a matched pair. Belonged to Achilles, they did. He was a good bloke, so I’d like them back in one piece.”

“ _The_ Achilles?” The kitsune grinned, and began adjusting the straps on the shield. “Alright! Does the spear shoot energy beams? Does the shield turn into a flying buzzsaw? Can I summon the Kraken?!”

Aster laughed again, and ruffled the kit’s headfur. “Nah, silly. They’re unbreakable, or supposed to be, and the spear is supposed to be able to pierce anything.” Aster winked. “And I do mean _anything_.”

“Practice outside,” Odin snapped.

The kit frowned. “But… we’re over the ocean…”

“Get out of here!”

Aster chuckled as the kit ran off. “They don’t know what Jack’s up to, do they?”

Odin didn’t answer; the sudden jolt as the Fortress was lifted up five feet, and dropped six, said it all for him. He did, however, smirk, and head for his second office door.

Raijin poked his head out of the doorway. “This is so _cool_! How’d you make Odin’s door open into the Closet back in the Warren?”

Aster, copying a gesture he’d seen Jack use countless times, wiggled his fingers at Raijin and said, as seriously as he could manage, “Magic.”

Before Raijin could respond, a naginata poked out of the doorway in front of him. “Aster?” Izanami asked. “Is this what I think it is?”

Raijin glanced up at the blade, and blanched.

“Not a mind reader, but probably.” Aster smirked, and gestured to one of the raven agents. “I got just the thing for you, kid.”

He only laughed when Raijin whispered to Izanami, “Is that the _Amenonuhoko?_ ”

Those two were great entertainment; Jack was right, he _should_ surprise them more often.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

The ocean was being whipped into a froth, becoming choppier than a box of chopsticks. Or something. He was a little distracted.

The Wind screamed, wings grabbing the air and thrusting. The result was nothing short of awe-ful, in the most basic sense of the word. Horizontal tornadoes, thunderclaps of sound - the Wind was a force of nature on the best of days. Right now, she was… something else. Something so much worse.

She’d shed her physical form in order to get bigger, and she seemed to fill the sky from horizon to horizon.

Off to the east, he could just make out the sounds of Thor whipping up his own storm clouds, and, west of him, he knew, though he could not see, Quetzalcoatl was doing much the same. Several other baby agents with storm-related powers were assisting them; they were trying to create a sort of ‘storm cage’ around the Trench, to chase off any mortals who would have otherwise been wandering near.

Plus, the stormy weather made his main task a whole hell of a lot easier.

Ice. Sheets, ‘bergs, free-floating chunks. His job was to create an icefield over the Mariana Trench, so that the bulk of their agents could do battle with the minions of the Serpent Aster had mentioned would likely be in attendance.

Jack watched as several large icebergs shifted out of position by a passing wave - Jormungandr’s wake, no doubt. He’d yet to catch direct sight of the legendary serpent, but, if the faint shadows beneath the ocean’s surface were any indication, Jor put a new meaning to the word ‘giagantonormus.’

And Jack felt entirely justified in making that up on the spot.

The Wind was smaller, right now. Just.

That should probably have disturbed him more than it did right now, but he was willing to take any advantage he could get. Hell, if _Pitch_ had had something, by way of help, to offer, he’d have taken it.

He wasn’t feeling desperate, but… any advantage was good, right?

Jack scowled, and grabbed hold of the wind currents, and twisted until they froze and shattered.

The storm promptly turned into a blizzard. The Wind cackled, long and horrible, as green lightning began to play across her feathers.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

“Aster?” Jack’s grip tightened on his staff, and looked through the door. “You here, or…?”

“Yeah mate. Watching the sunset. It’s quite nice, over the ocean.” Aster appeared to be seated on the couch in the middle of the room, situated such that it took full advantage of the view out the large picture window. “And the ocean makes it easier to look outside without panicking about flying.”

“The storm’s been…” He moved closer to the window, and then snorted. “Okay, so it was moved… probably for the best. That’s where the mortals will approach.” Tactical sense, yes. Jack would’ve felt better if the storm was still overhead, so he could direct a few lightning bolts at the Serpent when it arrived. Thor was great, but his weapon was summer lightning.

And since it wasn’t summer, his lightning wasn’t at its strongest.

Maybe he could get the Wind to coax a few thunderheads back over when the time was right….

“Not long now.” Jack hopped up onto the back of the couch, and looked down at Aster. “I, uh, I got you something.”

Aster glanced up in surprise. “Funny that,” he said, shifting so he could look at Jack proper without craning his neck backwards, and settled cross-legged against the armrest. “I got you something too.”

Jack spoke as if he hadn’t heard Aster. “If - if the worst happens, I hope it doesn’t, but if it does, I want you to have this, because… anyways.” He reached into his sweater pocket, and pulled out a smaller-sized box. “Weyland made it, but I designed it.”

Aster took the smallish box and set it in his lap, and stared at it for several seconds before opening it. He blinked several times, rapidly, and looked up at Jack. “Jack…? How did you know…?”

“Sandy helped. I mean, he told me what I should design it as. I didn’t figure Pooka used engagement rings, so. You know.” He shrugged, and looked out the window.

Aster poked Jack in the side. “Oi, take it, before I change my mind.”

“Huh?” he looked back down at Aster. “Take - huh?”

Aster gestured at him with - oh, there was a box in his paw? Was he giving it _back_ \- no, that was a different box.

“Huh?”

“You’re lucky you’ve got such a pretty face,” Aster said, sounding far too amused. “Take it. You gave me this one,” he added, and patted the open box in his lap. “Now I’m giving you _this_ one.” And he gestured again with the box in his paw.

Jack slowly reached out and accepted the box, sliding down the back of the couch to sit properly so he could set it in his lap. Similar to the box he’d given Aster, but a pale blue instead of a dark green. Holding his breath, he opened it.

And immediately looked up and stared at Bunny. “What? I - what?”

“Looks like we had the same ideas. Weyland didn’t let on he was making this…” Aster looked down at his gift, and smiled. “It’s a beauty, mate. You did good.”

Aster carefully extracted the fragile-looking silvered circlet from the box and examined it more closely; doubtlessly, it was enchanted to be unbreakable, or nearly so, but it’s delicate-seeming nature begged caution regardless.

The band had been made to look as if it were covered in frost, and it glittered too. Hopefully not diamonds, but Aster knew exactly how rare the stones were, and wasn’t too worried if the glittering specks were, in fact, compressed and polished carbon. In the center the ‘frost’ twisted together and became a snowflake, with six branching points. A small, green stone - not an emerald, some kind of peridot - sat in the center of the snowflake, faceted and polished until it looked like a perfect sphere.

Half-sphere, he corrected himself, after quickly checking the back of the snowflake. Completely flat.

He pointed at the stone. “Where’d’ya get that? Peridot is pretty hard to find, seeing as it forms so deeply beneath the surface of the Earth.”

“I could lie and say I found it in your tunnels…” Jack grinned. “Meteorite. Weyland had a minion go out and harvest it. I don’t even wanna know.”

Aster hummed and glanced down at the circlet fondly. “Extraterrestrial stone for the extraterrestrial, eh?”

“Hey, I was going to go with just about any green stone Weyland could get me, he’s the one that got fancy.” Jack looked down at his box, and huffed. “Do I even need to ask what you got me?”

“Dunno. Do you have eyes to see? And fingers to open the box yourself, or do you need me to do it?” Aster grinned at him cheekily.

Jack flipped his beloved, alien rabbit off, and pulled the box open. Even knowing what to expect, he had to take a moment to admire the circlet.

The circlet was silver, like Aster’s, but where Jack had designed his with frost in mind for the decorations, Aster had had this one crafted to resemble curling vines, which coalesced in the center to form a stylized variation on Aster’s own forehead flower tattoo. Centered atop the flower was a small blue stone. It glinted faintly in the light, and shimmered beautifully when he turned the circlet in his hands.

Jack’s fingers trembled, and he touched the stone very carefully. “What is it?”

“It’s a moonstone, Jackie. Took me a good week of poking around the Outback to find the right one.”

Jack huffed, and leaned sideways against Aster. “... I’m afraid.”

Aster placed the circlet back in the box, and did the same with Jack’s, and placed them on the side table. He then pulled Jack into his lap and nuzzled at his hair and hugging him close. “Me too, mate. Me too.”

Jack turned his head, the better to press his nose into Aster’s neck. “Promise me something?”

Aster hummed inquiringly and continued nuzzling, instead of answering. He looked… happy.

“If you go….” Oh, Bunny wasn’t going to like this. Not one bit. But he had to ask. “If you go, Bunny, the whole world goes with you. I can’t… Promise me, no matter what, that you won’t die.”

He pulled back and frowned at Jack seriously. “There’ll be no more talk of that. But,” he added, and paused. “I promise to do my utmost to avoid…” He trailed off, and shrugged awkwardly. “You know.”

Jack nodded, and relaxed. “I’ll try too,” he promised.

Trying wasn’t the same as succeeding. But he didn’t have to mention that.

“So…” Jack stared at Aster’s neck, and pressed closer. “What’s next? Headband things, and then…?”

Aster shuffled awkwardly in place, as best he could with Jack sitting on his lap. His fault for pulling the WINTER agent against him.

“Yes?” Jack prompted.

“Do… you mean Pookan traditions, or in general?”

“Yes,” Jack said, and smirked.

Aster reached up and scratched his head. His ears had long since fallen flat against his neck in embarrassment. “Well, ah… y’see… it’s traditional that, ah…” He paused, and then said in a rush, “We exchange markings.”

Jack wrinkled his nose. “I don’t have any…. And you’d, what, paint on me?” He paused, and licked his lips. “Last time worked out well…”

Aster cleared his throat. “Ah, no. It’s, ah… tattoos, for skin. Special permanent ink, for fur.”

“Human tattoos hurt.” Jack poked Aster in the chest. “Find a way to fix it, and you’ve got a deal, though what we’d put on you… actually, I have a few ideas.”

Aster smiled softly, his nervousness passing in the wake of Jack’s conditional agreement. “Well, there’s a few things that might do for that. Pooka had a way with topical anesthetics that could last half a day without fail.”

“Pooka had a way with just about everything, it seems.” Jack stroked his hand down Aster’s chest, to just above his navel. “I’m thinking… writing. _Property of Jack Frost_ , right here…” He traced where the letters would go. “And an arrow pointing down to your groin.”

Aster blinked at him, and then exclaimed, “What? No! That’s not - tramp stamps go on the small of the back anyway, _and that’s what you’re talking about!_ ”

“I just figured something that’d be clear and easy for the intellectually challenged…”

“Well, I was, ah… thinking something snowflakes, perhaps? I mean, I’d need to add matching markings on you in the first place… and then put mine on in the mated locations.”

Jack sniffed, and then ruined the effect by pressing a quick kiss to Bunny’s nose. “Do a few sketches of your ideas, I’ll approve the good ones.” Jack paused, and glanced down at Bunny’s lap. “Where’d you put mine, anyway? You said, before…” He gently touched the markings on Bunny’s thighs. “These were marriage markings.”

“There’s other places. Humans weren’t the only ones to have divorces. Just hope you don’t expect me to cover these up.” Aster touched the back of Jack’s hand, and smiled faintly. “A widower making a new marriage, so to speak, would put his new mate’s markings on his chest and stomach.”

Jack touched Aster’s chest. “I think… I think I’d like that.” He turned in the Pooka’s lap so he was facing outside, towards the sunset. “Let’s just… stay here, until we have to leave, yeah?”

Aster nodded, and wrapped his arms around Jack. “That’s a good idea. And I’ll get to those sketches once everything’s calmed down.”

“Hey, Cottontail?”

“Yeah Jack?”

“Love you.”

Aster hugged him tighter. “Love you too, mate. Love you too.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Sunday, 21 Dec 2014 -- The Serpent’s Prison, Challenger Deep, Mariana Trench, Sunset**

Even eternity came to an end.

This eternity did.

The hated ones had sworn he would remain bound until the stars fell from the sky and the dead rose. The darkness that blanketed the world had been brief, but effective.

And now, the seals were shattered.

_Freedom_.

It was time, the Serpent determined, that he take it for himself.

He shot towards the surface.

He was hungry.

And there were a great many lives nearby.

It was time to _feed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Next chapter on Christmas Day."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: *muffled evil laughter*


	57. Chapter 57

**Sunday, 21 Dec 2014 -- Fortress, hovering over the Mariana Trench, Pacific Ocean, Sunset**

It was more than a little eerie, standing out on the ice. The - glacier wasn’t the right word, nor was sheet - perch bobbed up and down on the waves, not quite in unison with the other ice slabs. Off in the distance, he could still hear the storm roaring, only a little calmer than it’d been a few hours before. In this particular spot, however, it was quiet, the kind of silence that came when everyone was holding their breath, listening.

Every so often the ice slabs were forced up on top of a wave as Jor came close to the surface. Jack no longer wanted to pet Jor, or get close. He knew how big the ice slabs were, each one roughly the size of a city block - maybe two or so acres squared. The sea serpent didn’t even get close to the surface, and yet the water he displaced moved each slab a significant amount up, sometimes to the side.

The only agents out on the water were ones capable of some sort of flight; either through natural ability, or some other kind of magic. Mostly boots, weirdly enough. North, Tooth, Sandy, and their guards were also out on the ice, waiting.

Odin had tried to say the Guardians couldn’t come, because they would be at risk, but North, of all people, wisely pointed out that if the Serpent won, nothing else mattered.

“Think someone’s going to be stupid enough to say the line?” Aster knocked Jack out of his thoughts - honestly, remembering the way Odin had gone all calm and quiet was far worse than remembering any of his drama-queen flip outs - and also distracted him from watching Jor near the surface, and then duck down again.

“What - oh, that line. No, an official announcement was made.”

Aster peered at Jack queerly - an ‘are you serious?’ expression if he’d ever seen one - eliciting a laugh from the sprite despite the tense circumstances.

“Weyland’s doing,” he explained. “Apparently he’s watched one too many kaiju films. Says that half the planet gets obliterated any time someone makes that kind of comment, so… keelhauling for anyone who does it.”

Jack stepped closer to Aster, and wrapped one arm around the Pooka’s waist. This part was nice. Being able to take - and hopefully, give - comfort… it was new. And very nice.

Aster returned the gesture, jostling a small, dark leather bag on his hip that Jack hadn’t noticed before.

“What’s this?” Jack frowned at the bag, but didn’t otherwise move. He was too comfortable… even with having to shift and adjust with each ocean swell.

“‘In case of emergency, eat chocolate,’” Aster deadpanned, in a tone that indicated some sort of warning label, or whatever it was you called those things on fire equipment cases.

“Really, Cottontail?” Jack grinned, and opened his mouth to say - something, he didn’t know.

He was interrupted.

It started below their feet. Below the level of ocean where Jor was patrolling, or freaking everyone out. Either or.

It was quiet, to start. More felt than heard, vibrating up through the ice, through Jack’s boots and into his feet and from there rattling its way up through his skeleton, applying pressure on his ears not unlike when he flew too high, too fast, and his ears wanted to be popped.

Then, it got louder, rose in a crescendo of sound, an ultra-bass roar that made the water vibrate and form a fine spray of mist just above the ocean’s surface. All around Jack could see agents clutching each other, screaming, though he couldn’t hear anything other than that deep, rage-personified cacophony.

Of course, everything got worse the moment Jor rose up out of the ocean like… well, like the nasty sea serpent he really was.

Only his head and neck were out of the water, but that was bad enough. Ice floes were shoved around by the displacement, and he towered over everyone. The frills along his jaw and the top of his head were flared, making him look bigger, and the lack of light turned his shimmering scales practically black.

“ ** _IT WAKES_** ,” Jor roared. Jack winced; he hadn’t realized the sea serpent could talk.

It made Jor scarier, actually.

Then the sea serpent rose further into the air, only to curve his neck and dive. Huge waves splashed up from where his head hit the water, and then the surface began to calm… though he was still diving.

It took three minutes for the monstrous serpent to finally vanish from view.

Everything settled, and was quiet again, still but for the waves emanating from the storms ringing the ice field.

Then the sea _erupted_.

A voice hummed in the air, so low Jack felt it in his bones.

“ ** _Destroy them, my Darklings._** ”

Creatures poured from beneath the water’s surface, bounding up onto the ice sheets, the icebergs, and even into the air, gliding on dark wings of… well, darkness.

As far as Jack could tell, the creatures were of all shapes and sizes, including ones that seemed impossible, biologically. Twisted and misshapen, multi-limbed and no-limbed, claws, teeth, quills… you name it, there was probably a darkling with that feature.

They were pitch black in color, the lot of them, with subtle shades of difference that allowed them to be seen individually against each other, if only barely.

They almost leeched the ambient light around them, and, if not for the whiteness of the ice field, they’d have likely been near-invisible in the sudden gloom.

Several of these ‘darklings’ rushed at Jack and Aster, who sprang apart and readied their weapons.

And then the battle finally started, the waves of darklings crashing into the ranks of WINTER.

Jack immediately lost track of what everyone else was doing. He could barely follow what he was doing, or Aster, never mind another ice slab. The darklings were seemingly everywhere, with an inexhaustible supply, intermittently springing from the ocean in waves.

The sea surface itself thrashed and rose in places, hints of gigantic, serpentine bodies visible through the dark water; Jormungandr and the Serpent, **the Zmiya** , entangled and fighting.

Jack dodged several attacks from the darklings currently harassing him, and returned fire with several large shards of ice, which pinned them down to the ice sheet. They ‘died’, if it could be called that, and started melting, of all things, leaving a sort of blackened ichor behind.

More sprang into the fight, and Jack was distracted thoroughly - at least until the iceberg behind him shattered, as twin, entwined tails snaked out of the water and came crashing down upon it, sending shards of ice flying everywhere.

Fortunately, Jack had enough warning - the ‘boom’ of the iceberg shattering to bits - to dive to the side and flatten Aster to the ground; a large shard of ice speared several darklings, and a couple others landed to either side of them, shielding them on three sides even as the darklings were crushed into a messy ichor. They had a moment’s reprieve, if the confused nattering of the darklings was any indication.

“Hey there, handsome,” Jack purred, grinning at Aster’s shocked expression. “Fancy meeting someone like you here.”

“Wot?” Aster squawked, gazing at Jack in a bit of a daze.

Whoops; Jack guessed Aster’d knocked his head a bit too hard.

“How many fingers do you see?” he asked, and held up two fingers and a thumb.

“Thre- no, wait, you lot call that a thumb and it doesn’t count,” Aster replied after a moment’s focus. “So, two.”

“You are adorable. Seriously adorable.” Jack shoved up onto his feet, and held a hand to Aster. “Need to leave?”

Aster took it and stood with Jack’s help. He wobbled, once, and Jack reached to catch him, but the Pooka waved him off. He took several deep breaths, and seemed to stabilize himself.

“Wasn’t ready for the rocking of the ice sheet when I stood,” Aster said, by way of explanation. “Never much liked sailing, to be honest.”

The ice boulder on their left cracked down the middle; a darkling dodged through the gap in front of them at the same time. Jack swatted it out of the air casually, and ignored the sickening splat of it hitting the ground.

“Technically, not sailing,” he said, and gestured with one hand. The ice sheet shifted, and the surface thrust multiple spikes up into the darklings’ feet. Not lethal, but quite the surprise. Another gesture sucked the spikes back down before Aster could step on them. Or Jack, but he was wearing boots.

“No sail,” he added, and smashed one of the darklings’ in the head. Probably the head.

“Still wobbling about like a drunken sailor,” Aster muttered as he bashed several darklings in the head with a wide swing of his staff that - he hadn’t had a moment ago.

“Bun _ny_?” Jack pointed at the staff, and absently summoned a blast of freezing ice crystals to blind and hurt the darklings’ eyes. If they had eyes. Well, eyes or no eyes, it did distract them.

Aster barked a laugh as he spun the staff expertly about, twirling it right into, and through, several more darklings as they came pouring through the gaps in the ice boulders they’d carved.

“I felt like a change of styles, so I summoned up a staff.”

“Oh baby,” Jack breathed, suddenly distracted. “Talk dirty to me.”

“Duck!”

“That’s not - oh shit!”

Jack obligingly ducked, and a boomerang sailed through where his head had been, cutting several darklings behind him in two. Jack glanced up in time to see Aster catching it, a smug smirk gracing his muzzle.

“ _Uhh_ ,” Jack said, the sound highly sexual. Then he shook his head. “Hey, think you can manage? I need to get a quick look at the battlefield.”

As if in answer, Aster grunted and twisted in two places on the haft of the shaft - and it popped apart, now three wooden sections connected by two short lengths of chain. With a roar, he leapt into the fray, full-force and staff ends spinning wildly through the darklings.

“That was so _fucking_ cool,” Jack exclaimed as he flew off.

He avoided the center of the battlefield - though it hadn’t started out as a bunch of ice sheets in a ring around open water, the thrashing between the two snakes had ensured it ended up that way. The water had been churned into a fine froth, and every so often a tail or two would surface, or occasionally a mound of twisting body. Once Jack was sure he saw a head, but it was there and gone too quickly for him to be sure.

Everyone else, though…

The other Guardians were making out alright, he was relieved to see. Tooth had swords, which to his eye looked vaguely like scimitars, but were probably the Indian equivalent… if scimitars weren’t Indian in the first place; he wasn’t sure on that one. Quetza looked small next to the battling serpents in the water, but he was accounting for a fair number of darklings, while at the same time providing a safe bulwark for agents to put their backs to.

Other agents weren’t so lucky. There were a few still bodies scattered on the ice, or floating in the water. Jack grimaced, and hoped the rescue crews were on their toes. WINTER healers were very good at their jobs, even if their job involved resuscitating people from near-drowning.

As he turned around, his heart about seized up when the ice sheet he’d left Aster on split suddenly in two from below. He sighed in relief when he spotted Bunny bounding across the sheet and jumping across a short gap to the next one.

Several dozen darklings fell back into the sea, or were crushed when various shards and boulders of ice rolled down the inclined, now two, ice sheets. Good riddance.

And then Jack saw what had caused the ruckus in the first place - what looked like the entwined midsections of the two great sea serpents had breached the surface and risen a good… well, Jack was at least fifty feet in the air, and he was about level with the top of the coils.

So yeah. High.

He shook himself, watched for a moment as the coils returned below the ocean’s surface; the sheets came crashing down and scraped against each other, shattering more bits and pieces off of them and sending them flying.

Jack casually dodged a few shards that made it up to him, and glanced to the side when he felt a disturbance in the air. The Wind screeched by a second later, gnashing a darkling in her beak, and carrying several in her talons. Which… she flung, hard, against the side of an iceberg a moment later. Jack winced when they splatted. Messily.

Right, back to work. Jack looked at the fighting serpents, and grimaced. Yeah, no. Better to let Jor handle the big bad; he’d help with the little bads. Not exactly outside of Jack’s pay grade, per se, but ‘big’ really did mean _big_ this time around.

Hell, Jack thought with a shudder, he’d probably fit in the things _mouth_ with room to spare.

He twisted, and kicked his feet up like a diver off the high board, and shot towards Aster. He had his charge to guard. Couldn’t do it from fifty feet in the air.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

Aster looked ‘round when Jack rejoined him, and grinned. “Having fun?” he asked.

Jack slammed the crook of his staff into a darkling’s head, which crunched under the blow and fell to the ground, already starting to melt.

“Much fun. So fight. Very sweat. Wow. Amaze,” he said, snickering.

“Well, if you’re making jokes, clearly you’re not busy enough.” Aster spun one part of his staff and slammed it into a darkling. “How’s the others?”

“Peachy, from what I could tell,” Jack dodged a blow, and hit the attacker so hard his arm went flying. “Take that, thing-from-the-deep!”

Aster nodded, and settled into the comfortable routine of battle. Attack, defend, dodge, attack, move to the side to attack again - beside him, Jack was getting a little too into the swing of things, in Aster’s opinion. There was a bit of _cackling_ from the winter spirit.

“Jack, y’alright there?” he called over.

“Yeah, I’m just fi- ow! _Bastard_!”

Aster spun around to look at Jack, spinning his staff around him in several arcs, to give him the space to do so. Jack’d been injured, though not much. From what he could see, it was a shallow gash over his right eye, which, being a head wound, always bled very much in excess of the damage that was done.

The blood was running in a pair of thin rivulets down Jack’s face. He licked at the trail that ran down to his lips, and grinned darkly, teeth stained red with his own blood.

Aster couldn’t help but twitch. “ _Jack_?” Berserker, he remembered.

Instead of answering, Jack grunted as he swung his staff, bringing the crook down on his attacker’s head, and - splitting him in two, ichor spraying everywhere.

“Yes, Bunny?” Jack had an edge to his voice, but otherwise sounded normal.

Aster smashed down another darkling, and opened his mouth. “You’re sure you’re right there?” he asked. “You seem -”

The ice sheet shook beneath their feet, and cracked. Jack dove towards him for the second time that day, a manic, if panicked, look on his face.

“Get down!” Jack shouted as the ice sheet _exploded_ behind them.

Jormungandr and **the Zmiya** burst from the ocean, through the ice sheet, jaws flailing about and gnashing at the air, each trying to get a grip on the other’s throat.

Jack rolled off of him in time for them both to witness the fight, having finally come to the surface, take a scary turn.

Jormungandr roared in pain as **the Zmiya** finally managed to clamp down on the back of his neck, just behind the head.

“Shit!” Jack shouted. “He needs help!”

Aster grabbed at Jack’s hood, but missed by a hair. Less.

Jack shot away from Aster’s grasp, and up into the air, already spraying shards of ice at **the Zmiya’s** eyes. **It** roared in discomfort, and pulled back from **Its** bite; Jormungandr slumped onto the ice sheet with a resounding thud. Aster ran over to check, knocking aside several darklings.

Good, still breathing. Injured badly, though. He glanced up at Jack, prepared to enter the fight-

“Bloody hell,” he murmured, awed and worried all at once.

Jack was so _small_ against the Serpent’s bulk; he was hardly big enough to be a mouthful, yet… he was fighting, _successfully_ , and -

Jack snarled, audible even at this distance to Aster’s ears, and charged haphazardly through the air. Aster shivered at the sound, on reflex.

“ **He... is lost... to bloodlust** ,” Jormungandr murmured, before drunkenly sliding off the ice sheet and into the dark waters. He left a smear of dark blood wider than Aster was tall on the ice.

That was hardly good. Aster stared at the trail first, then where Jormungandr had vanished, but he couldn’t do anything about that.

Thankfully, the darklings seemed inclined to leave him alone, so he was able to stand and watch the fight. It was brutal. Only to be expected, but he never would have expected Jack to be able to gouge out one of **the Zmiya’s** eyes. The resulting roar made his ears hurt, enough that he fell to one knee on the ice.

It didn’t last. The serpent twisted, and snatched up several of its darklings from a nearby ice sheet, swallowing them whole. Aster spluttered, and then about had a heart attack when, on swallowing, the serpent’s eye healed. Another mouthful of darklings took care of the other, more minor wounds.

“Bloody hell,” he swore, and looked around for Jack. Once he caught sight of him, it became very obvious that no amount of warnings or - if Odin got involved - orders would stop Jack from the fight.

Definitely lost to the blood lust.

Jack returned to the fight, and Aster was unable to continue watching for a full moment, because a gaggle of cackling darklings pounced on him.

Or tried to, much to their almost immediate chagrin. They died quickly, but there’d been so _many_ , he’d lost track of the fight. When he next looked up, it was to witness Jack putting out another eye, _again_ , and lacerating **the Zmiya’s** face quite severely. And again, almost immediately after, **It** knocked Jack aside with **Its** head, sending him tumbling through the air for several hundred feet, and giving **It** ample time to gobble up some more darklings. It finished healing just as Jack renewed his assault for the third time, hardly looking winded or worse for the wear, other than some superficial bloodsplatter and minor cuts, which Aster could only make out from the blood trails at this distance.

This time, though, the serpent seemed disinclined to let Jack remove yet another eye. The instant Jack got close, **It** roared, and slammed **Its** head into Jack, and then into a nearby glacier. The glacier cracked, parts of it crumbling off into the ocean.

“Jack!” Aster began leaping from one ice slab to the next, swatting away darklings that got in his way - not even to kill, just to move them - and ignoring the surprised agents he passed on the way. Halfway to the glacier, the serpent pulled away. A minute later, Jack climbed out of the crater, having lost his sweater - but he’d been wearing his WINTER uniform underneath, which no doubt had something to do with how Jack wasn’t turned into a flat and bloody mess.

Jack snarled something unintelligible as Aster approached, glaring after where **the Zmiya** had gone. Aster spared a glance in that direction as he bounded off another few towering icebergs, and his blood damn-near froze in his veins.

**It** was going for another healing snack-

And _North_ was amongst the group of darklings it was targeting.

Just as Aster got within a dozen feet of Jack, the sprite flew off like a cannon shot, the ice beneath his feet cracking and shattering in all directions, directly towards North. Apparently he could see an ally in danger even when lost to the bloodlust.

Aster’s exclamation of “Jack, wait!” fell on deaf ears.

He began scrambling back down the glacier-sized iceberg, watching Jack’s reckless flight as he descended, rushing to their aid as best he could.

But he was too slow.

Jack reached North’s side at the same exact instant that **the Zmiya** came crashing down, cracking the ice sheet beneath their feet and-

_Swallowed Jack and North whole._

“Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaacccckkk!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaysurin's Commentary: “-steeples fingers- I’m sure you’re all quite upset, but remember, I did warn you. I kept pointing at that Character Death tag. But no, you didn’t want to believe me! So there. Hah!”
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "It Christmas! Merr Christmas! :P " *cackling*


	58. Chapter 58

**Sunday, 21 Dec 2014 -- Ocean’s surface above Challenger Deep, Mariana Trench, Pacific Ocean, Nightfall**

_“Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaacccckkk!”_

Aster’s shout echoed around him, but no one else took notice, too caught up in the fighting to hear or have time to care. What he wanted to do was break down and grieve; what he did instead was grab for the pouch on his bandolier, and down the chocolate contained therein in one quick motion.

The Serpent would _pay_.

Aster sucked in a deep breath against the pain of growing extra arms, and then just plain _growing_. This time, it seemed, the chocolate blend added a good hundred pounds of muscle and height. Jack would no doubt demand explanations of how Aster’s very mass could change-

No. Jack wouldn’t demand anything, now.

Aster clenched his fists, and swallowed the grief. Later. When there wasn’t a battle. He’d - he’d promised Jack, after all. And if he died, so did everything else, sooner or later. It wasn’t even a question of -

He couldn’t even grieve properly for his lost mate yet. That, if nothing else, helped transfigure the grief to rage.

Aster all-but-roared his defiance as the shift completed, now topping ten feet, or a bit more, and with the muscle and body mass to match. He tapped his footpaw, and summoned a few overlarge bladed weapons that were somewhere between a sword and an axe.

His roar did not go unnoticed, either. The Serpent, rearing back to choose a new target, paused. **It** turned towards him, and if snakes could snarl, that was definite proof.

**_“You!”_ **

Aster snarled back wordlessly, and charged across the ice fields, bounding off ‘berg and frost flower and plane, until he met the Serpent, swords to teeth, clashing and gnashing and screaming with their efforts.

One good thing. He managed to keep the Serpent distracted enough that it didn’t go for any of the darklings. Several cuts, small compared to the rest of the creature’s body, decorated its head and face. It bled freely, a dark ichor that was closer to purple than red, but the wounds weren’t lethal.

**_“Miserable vermin!”_** The Serpent reared up and away from another blow, and shrieked.

Crikey. And Aster had thought the Wind had a painful voice when roused.

**_“I shall melt the flesh from your bones, you wretched mammal!”_ **

Aster grinned at **It** , all teeth and rage. “Pooka, you bloody stupid excuse for a World Serpent! I’ll flay the skin from your bones for what you have done!”

He leapt forward, swords flying, and did just as he’d promised, though the wounds were superficial at best, given the creature’s size. Still, promise made and kept. Now, to keep making it, that was the trick.

**_“Does the little warm-body speak of his kin? Pathetic…”_** The serpent _spat_ at him, and Aster dodged out of the way. The glob of… liquid… was gray-ish, and ate through the ice like a hot knife. **_“I killed them, little squirmy mouthful. I will kill you, too. I imagine you taste delicious!”_**

The Serpent dove down, all fangs and open maw, and Aster had to throw his four extra arms wide to catch the jaws. He braced himself against the iceberg he’d dodged up onto when he avoided the spat acid - or whatever it’d been - and the iceberg shifted across the surface a good fifty feet before they came to a stop, braced against each other, Aster’s arms splayed wide to hold the mouth open and off of him.

Perfect, really, for him to swing one sword inside and stab **the Zmiya’s** forked tongue.

It snarled, and Aster wrinkled his nose at the wash of fetid breath. “I’m talking,” he ground out, between short, puffing breaths. “About my _mate_. You arsehole.”

The Serpent wrenched it’s jaws from his grasp, and Aster dove to the side to dodge the immediate second attack. The iceberg shuddered and split down the middle from the impact, and Aster made a run for the edge, diving down to the nearby plane of ice and running several dozen yards, to give him room to maneuver when the Serpent returned to the offensive. In the interim, he chucked several egg bombs at **Its** face as **It** emerged from the iceberg.

**It** roared as the powder stung **Its** eyes, and shook **Its** head back and forth, swaying in the water enough that it cracked the remains of the iceberg further with **Its** bulk.

**It** rose up further out of the water, and stared at him for a long moment. **Its** heat-pits fluttered, like nostrils, and then **Its** tongue flicked out from between its lips. **_“You speak of the small ice-one,”_** the Serpent mused. **_“The reek is all over you.”_**

**It** chuckled in that dark way all evil beings seemed to possess, and went to charge forward at Aster’s return snarl.

Aster met **It** halfway, and they once again clashed, teeth and jaws gnashing at him as he caught them in his grasp and prepared to stab **It** once more inside the mouth. Wiser to his tricks, **It** hissed at him, and visibly prepared to spit acid again.

The breath exhaled in the hiss was-

Aster’s heart clenched in surprise and hope.

Its breath was _ice cold._

He didn’t want to let it mean anything, but the chill meant… _everything_.

The surprise also meant he held still three seconds too long, because the Serpent pushed forward suddenly, jaw unhinging wide enough to engulf him whole. Aster twisted, but his sudden mass and extra limbs got in the way, and he couldn’t move fast enough.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

With the sound of pork flash-freezing in liquid nitrogen, the Serpent’s neck abruptly froze over.

The Serpent wrenched upwards halfway through its lunge, seeming to scream without making a sound. It thrashed, whipping its long body around through the water, knocking ice floes out of the way. Before it could get any more energetic -

Aster actually rubbed his eyes with two fists, because if anything screamed ‘conspicuous special effects’, the shattering flesh was definitely it.

North burst forth from the Serpent’s neck with a war whoop to end all war whoops, and Jack shot out and caught his swiftly falling body a second later, the two of them tumbling down to land near Aster’s own sprawled form moments later.

Aster sucked in a desperate breath, and reached out. “Jack?”

Taking a moment to ensure North was safe, Jack then ran over to Bunny, gaping. “Whoa, you’re big, Cottontail! You alright?”

Jack looked… he was covered in mucus that dripped off him with disgusting slow-motion, blood covered half his face, and his eyes glittered with a mad, near deranged light from that red mask. He stank.

And he was wonderfully alive. Beautiful with it.

“Jack,” he whispered, and cradled his mate’s face with two hands. “You…”

“Alive, yeah. Close, that was.” Jack kissed his palm, and then twisted suddenly, shoving the two of them to the side. The Serpent’s thrashing had led to **Its** tail coming slamming down where they’d been a moment ago. Jack glanced across the now split ice plane. “North, you okay?”

Something very Russian, very angry, and very vulgar answered him.

“Right, he’s good. Bunny?”

“You’re not dead.” Aster wiped a gobbet of slime off Jack’s cheek. “Apples, mate.”

“Love you too, Cottontail. Let’s finish this, yeah?”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

Jack nuzzled Bunny’s palm, and then turned to look at the Serpent. It hadn’t gone for another snack - yet - and the healing was getting… annoying.

He took a deep breath, redolent with the stench of Serpent throat-slime and blood, and bared his teeth. Someone looking at him might think he was smiling, but nope. Smiling was very, very far away right now.

_Thin ice, Jack,_ he reminded himself. He could feel that… anger, lust for violence, he didn’t know, like a great pit yawning beneath his feet. He couldn’t actually remember anything from when he’d fallen in, not even emotions. He had to say, he didn’t like that blank stretch - it worried him.

_Thin ice. Better get dancing._ Because if you had to cross thin ice, you may as well do it in a dance.

He pulled away from Bunny, which was harder than he’d expected. The Pooka’s warmth had been strangely calming. Or not so strangely, considering. He shook, once, and twirled his staff.

“Right,” he said, already consulting his mental map. And then paused, struck physically still when an idea presented itself with glowing lights and angelic choirs. “Ooooh…”

The others would say he shouldn’t do it….

Jack giggled. Bunny shot him a worried look. That sealed it.

_This is perfect._

“You right, mate?” Bunny asked, visibly worried. It was a good look for him.

Jack grinned, and jumped into the air. And didn’t come down. “What’s the term? Apples. I have a plan. Try and keep up!”

Now, to harass a giant snake… Hm. Jack giggled again, a nasty-edged sound, and shot towards the Serpent.

He swing his staff as he passed by, and a low-level wave of frost shot from the crook at its eyes. The Serpent screamed - maybe the frozen neck thing made it more sensitive to the cold? - and shot after him like, well… a greyhound after a rabbit.

Jack cackled, and swooped up into the air. “Wind!” he screamed.

She swooped down not a moment too soon, and off they went, the Serpent’s jaws clacking shut mere millimeters from Jack’s toes. **It** roared, and gave chase.

“North,” he told her. The Wind looked down towards North, and made a confused sound. Jack didn’t clap his hand to his face, but it was really tempting. “No, not that - the direction, bird-brain! Go! _Fast!_ ”

She quickly adjusted and shot off like a rocket. They swiftly approached the speed of sound, and she squawked at him, in her fashion, questioning the speed. Faster than _this_?

Jack knew that the shockwaves from breaking the sound barrier always left his ears ringing, but there was nothing for it; the Serpent wouldn’t likely give chase for _that_ long, before getting bored and returning to feast on WINTER itself.

He leaned forward, and half-turned to look back and, you know, aim. He shot another wave of frost at the Serpent, stronger than before, and even as fast as they were going he could still hear the resulting scream.

When Jack faced forward, the windspeed just about blinded him. After a second of squinting like a deranged, World War One airforce pilot with a thing against goggles, he rolled his eyes - mentally, because physically wasn’t possible at the moment - and gave the mental twist that summoned his helmet. Once he pulled the goggles down, it didn’t feel like the wind was trying to tear his eyeballs out by the tear ducts.

His ears still rang for a few minutes after he broke the sound barrier, and kept going. Faster and faster, and a little corner of his mind guessed he was probably running three or four times the speed of sound by now, and yet the Serpent was still keeping up.

In fact, it was ever-so-slowly _gaining_ on him.

Jack crouched lower, and looked for a change in the ocean. They were past the ice floes now; at least the remaining Agents should be safe enough, if the Serpent decided to turn around. They’d have warning. Giant snake swimming their way, even at this speed, they’d notice.

“C’mon, _c’mon_ ,” he whispered, words lost in the wind, and not really caring one way or the other.

The island came in sight just as he was starting to wonder if he’d aimed wrong.

“Aha!” he shouted, still not able to hear himself, and wordlessly gestured for the Wind to swerve towards the island of Anatahan.

Instead of swerving, she folded her wings and dove. Jack, in between a desperate prayer to Polaris and a gleeful whoop at the speed, considered her decision and decided it was a good one.

The enormous jaws snapping shut where they’d just been a second ago might have been a factor. Maybe.

Okay. At the island.

_Now what?_

The overblown snake was just a little bit too big to pick up and throw…

Could he make it climb over the mountain?

Well, one way to find out. Jack spun in place, still flying at break-neck speed, only backwards now, and sprayed frost and ice shards at his pursuer. The Serpent snarled and twisted, avoiding the worst of the attack, but let go a scream of pain and rage a moment later when the edge of the attack caught the ragged, half-healed hole Jack and North had egressed through.

Jack two, Serpent zero. Ish.

“Okay, now to just call-” the Wind twisted and spun to the right without warning. “Ack!”

The Serpent appeared in his vision a moment later, right where he’d been.

Jack blinked. “Oh. Uh, thanks Wind. Can we get a bit closer?” She squawked and started to turn towards the Serpent. “No! No! Not _him_! The volcano! Polaris, if you paid _attention_ to the plan, then we wouldn’t have to- Crikey!”

The Wind dove away and towards the volcano, even as they dodged the Serpent’s latest attempt to eat Jack again. He really didn’t want a repeat, and -

Jack blinked, and groaned. “Did I just say _Crikey?_ ” The Wind laughed, in her own way, which was an answer in and of itself. “Don’t tell Bunny? I’d never hear the end of it!”

The Wind tilted a few feathers, sending them into a quick one-hundred-eighty degree turn. This time, to avoid a glob of toxic spit. And then she tilted a few more feathers, sending them in another spin, away from the Serpent.

“I’m getting dizzy…”

The Wind squawked again, and spun the _other_ direction.

Jack shouted, “Oi! That’s not how to fix - _goddamnit_ , I’m spending too much time with Bunny!”

The Wind cackled, jinked in mid-air, and then shot straight up as quickly as she could. Jack yelped, and grabbed a quick hold of her neck feathers, just before he went backwards and had to fly on his own.

There was an ominous rumbling sound from below them, and then a veritable explosion as Jormungandr came up from the ocean depths, spraying water everywhere, even as high as the peak of the twenty-five hundred foot stratovolcano. He was a roaring titan of scale and muscle and rage, and he blindsided the Serpent.

Jor’s mouth was almost big enough to engulf the Serpent’s head. Almost.

The Serpent roared in return, and twisted to dodge the worst of the bite. Jor still took a long slice down **Its** body, and a few bits of flesh went flying.

“Eww,” Jack muttered, having come to a hovering stop about a mile above the ocean’s surface. He watched the fight for a few seconds, before grinning darkly. “Right. Time to do the thing. Wind! To the volcano!”

She screamed and dove down towards the peak, half a mile below them, though that passed in the blink of an eye, and before Jack knew it, she was dropping him off at the top of the mountain. She tore off towards the Serpent, intent on helping Jormungandr.

“Good girl! I’ll just… do my thing here, while you two fight the big giant snake of doom and - right, rambling, bad Jack, do the thing now, less talky, more … well, pseudo-talky- _anyway!_ ”

Jack sucked in a deep breath, and let his eyes go out of focus. He wasn’t sure, exactly, what he’d be looking for. It was a _big_ volcano, though. Even the tiny ones that barely poked up above the surface had a personification. So he just had to find it.

He refrained from making ‘here kitty-kitty’ noises, but only just.

It took a bit of time wandering about, time he couldn’t afford, before he saw something promising. It didn’t look like much. A spot of red-gold that glowed, very faintly, about the size of a three-day old kitten. Jack approached carefully, all the same.

“Ah, hel- _lo_ ,” he said. Hopefully this was the volcano’s personification, and not some random fire spirit. “What have we here…?” He laughed when he figured out what the personification’s form was. “This is too perfect!”

It was a _mongoose_.

The personification lifted its head and _looked_ at him.

Jack smiled at it, and knelt down, gesturing at it carefully. Scaring it off now would only complicate things. Surely, given prior experience, Jor and the Wind could only hold off the Serpent for so long before it got the better of them; it was just too strong.

The mongoose-personification tilted its head at Jack, studying him. He held still, and tried to relax - as best he could with _world destroying giant serpents battling to the death nearby_ \- and present an open and friendly demeanor. It was one thing to aggressively tame the wild personifications of a storm, but a volcano? That required tact, something he was in short supply of, most days.

The personification narrowed its eyes, and Jack got the sudden impression that he’d better start talking, _fast_ , before he got turned into a puddle of _meltwater_.

“Well, not one to mince words, are you?” Jack said, attempting a disarming grin.

It looked at him, duly unimpressed, sat back on it’s haunches, and yawned, attention already straying.

“Wait! Wait wait wait! I need you to, like, do your thing! Right now!” He paused, and then added, “Uh, please?”

Mongeese were apparently capable of a disbelieving eyebrow. Who knew?

“See that giant serpent thing over there? No, not the one with head fins and stuff, the other one! The meaner one? That is trying to eat the finned one right now, shit shit shit…-”

The Volcano-Mongoose didn’t chatter, but Jack quite clearly heard a “get on with it”... with a cowboy drawl. Probably all in his head, honestly, but he figured it was good advice.

“That’s the, uh, world destroying serpent monster of doom? Uh… what’d Bunny call it…? The… ah… fail brain, why now?” Jack slapped himself mentally, and got the distinct impression that the mongoose was trying desperately to remain aloof and not be amused at his behavior. “Right! **The Zmiya**!”

He was almost used to the thrum in the air, but he was _not_ expecting the Serpent to snap it’s attention in his direction. Or fling Jor about a mile away, or so it looked, and turn to race towards Jack once more.

_Shit!_

The Mongoose noticed the oncoming snake, and made a sound that made rage seem like a petty little feeling. Then it looked over at Jack, and snorted. It sounded very demanding. And, honestly, considering the furious sound earlier, probably meant something along the lines of ‘squishy, melty things go away now’, though with better spelling and grammar.

The accompanying shuddering of the mountain was just added incentive to get the hell out of dodge that instant.

Like, _now_.

Jack flung himself into the air, spinning around in time to see the Volcano-Mongoose vanish into the surface of the mountain - and to have the volcano roar to life a second later, belching hot ash and dust into the sky, followed a moment later by volcanic bombs aplenty - Jack had to dodge several, and decided it was best to move _further away_ before he got hit - and then lava started to overflow from the top of the stratovolcano.

“C’,mon, c’mon, I know you can do it.... _Yes!_ ”

The Serpent was nearing the peak when the volcano apparently decided it had had enough, and belched again - only this time, with a _pyroclastic flow_.

More to the point, the eruption column dropped right on top of the Serpent at the same time as the volcano belched up a separate pyroclastic density current - so, really, it was two pyroclastic flows at once, from above _and_ below.

Blazingly hot gas and rock, meet Serpent. Serpent, meet melty melty stuff, right _in your face._

Jack cackled, and then stared at the Serpent. Wonder if he could… never mind, the pyroclastic flow was definitely too hot for him to freeze the Serpent’s scales, though the sudden cold probably would’ve been an unwelcome and painful shock. Might even have resulted in some stress cracking from the extreme changes in temperature.

**The Zmiya** emerged from the twin pyroclastic flows screaming in pain and anguish, **Its** hardened scales burned and blasted away and -

“Eww.”

**Its** muscles - what was left of them - bones and sinew visible, down most of the body. Jack, thinking quickly, dove forward, intent on freezing as much of the bared flesh as he could-

But he needn’t have bothered.

A moment later, Jormungandr appeared.

Jack pulled back, just in time to avoid the spray of blood and gore when Jor wrapped himself around the Serpent like a boa constrictor, fastened his teeth in the Serpent’s neck, and then tore head from body with a single flex of his own.

“Well,” he said, and stared down at the mess. “That works too, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Hands up everyone who thought we'd REALLY do it." ... "Oh, look, a volcano. Subtle, Jack."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: (totally geeks out on the volcano info) "Now, about those other Pooka..."


	59. Chapter 59

**Sunday, 21 Dec 2014 -- Pacific Ocean, North of the Mariana Trench, late evening**

Aster checked his gag reflex, breathed deeply for a few seconds, and then shouted at North, “Stop with the loop-de-loops!”

North cackled, and cracked the reins again. “Phil! Extend stabilizers!”

Phil shrugged at Aster and then moved forward to spin a pinwheel-thing - he _really_ wasn’t in the mood to pay attention enough to call it proper - and the stabilizers extended, leveling out their flight path. Aster sighed in relief.

“Trigger afterburners!”

The Sleigh shot off like a rocket. On steroids.

“Crikey!”

“You are so fretful, Bunny. Calm down. Is all under control. I am,” North said, and somehow stood up against the howling wind. “Utter professional!”

Sandy, the little traitor, had his arms in the air like this was some sort of amusement park ride. Jack had tried to convince him to try them, but they resembled the Sleigh a little too much for comfort, and he’d declined, but at least he knew what Sandy was doing now.

Still a bloody little traitor.

Off in the distance he could see the Serpent rearing up again, dwarfing the tiny island Jack had chosen for a new battleground. Aster grimaced; the Serpent looked rather plain next to, say, Jormungandr. The lack of markings, the absence of frills, should not have made it look more frightening.

Jack, little speck off in the distance that he was, did… something, and caught the Serpent’s attention.

“North!” he shouted.

“On it!”

Somehow, they gained yet more speed, but they were going to be too late-

Aster blinked, disbelieving.

Or… not.

North hauled on the reins, turning the sleigh so they were hit broadside by the pressure wave, instead of head on. It made things a little better. The turbulence was still worse than he-

Well, his puke missed everyone, so there was that.

The island - which was apparently a _volcano_ \- had erupted in the Serpent’s face, and both dropped and fired directly at, two pyroclastic flows that joined as one as they collided with the Serpent. Aster didn’t know what that’d do to it, but he wasn’t expecting...

“Eww,” Tooth said, gagging off to the side.

The Serpent emerged from the blast, scales all but shorn away from it’s hide, exposing muscle and tendon and bone underneath. From experience, Aster knew the Serpent could heal the damage, all he needed was a food source-

Of course, in order to access a food source, the Serpent needed to _eat_. Having Jor tear its head off rather prevented that little detail.

North made a very disturbing sound that turned out to be a laugh. Aster grimaced, but - North had almost been eaten by the Serpent. No doubt the… turnaround… was something to be enjoyed.

Odin pulled up alongside them, astride Sleipnir as he was, and called over, “What the fuck just happened? Where’d Jack go? And why the everloving fuck is Jormungandr _eating_ that fucking thing?”

Setting aside the profuse vulgarity Odin was fond of when he was incensed, Aster had to agree, at least on the point of Jack. Jormungandr could… do whatever he pleased. He was the only giant serpent leaving this day.

Aster shivered at that thought.

The Zmiya was _dead_.

It sounded almost too good to be true, but there it was - being eaten by Jormungandr.

Aster gagged. Okay, not looking at that again anytime soon.

He turned to North. “We need to find Jack.” He’d disappeared when the volcano had erupted. Aster continued, muttering, “Please be okay, please be okay….”

“Yes, yes. So fretful, Bunny.” North turned the sleigh again, pointing the reindeer at the volcano. “We will avoid the snakey feast, hm?”

They swung wide around the volcanic island, in the direction the ash plume wasn’t blowing, and eventually found Jack sailing along joyfully astride the Wind, alternately cackling like a madman and nattering at something small riding on his shoulder.

Aster shivered. Jack didn’t look like he’d been injured. Of course, he couldn’t see details at the moment, and considering everything that’d happened previously in the fight, broken ribs were probably in Jack’s present. Again.

At least, once he came down off the adrenaline high.

Maybe it was a calcium deficiency. Aster should suggest that to Gretchen. Ribs shouldn’t just _break_ all the time like that, right?

They made landfall on the beach south - and thankfully upwind - of Jormungandr and his… feast, Jack alighting down nearby a moment later. The - thing - on his shoulder hopped down, and they appeared to share words with it for a moment before it ran off into the smoking ash and dust.

Aster hopped out of the Sleigh, never more thankful to be on land once again - even if it was a _volcano_ that was _erupting,_ but details - and ran over to Jack, grabbing him up in a hug and spinning him around several times, laughing despite himself and his, comparatively to most of WINTER, superficial injuries.

Perks of being a shapeshifter, he supposed in some small part of his mind, while the greater part was focused entirely on Jack.

“Hey Cottontail!” Jack wiggled a little, and then wrapped his legs around Aster’s hips, his arms around Aster’s neck, and grinned. “Hail to the conquering hero. Do I get a reward for being super-clever, super-strong, and super-all-around-awesome?”

Aster grinned in return. “Perhaps later, when things are a bit more... _private_ ,” he answered, throwing his voice low, in just the way he knew Jack liked.

“Wow, very much gutter brain. I was thinking a kiss.” Jack pressed a quick peck to Aster’s nose, and then twisted to stare at the others. “Hey guys. What?”

The others were all staring at Jack in varying degrees of consternation, shock, amusement, and, in Odin’s case, undisguised frustration.

“What the fuck?” the old god in question said, gesturing at the smoking top of the volcano. “What the everloving fuck, Jack? How the hell did you - _goddamn it_ , I said no more volcanoes!”

Jack glanced at Bunny, winked - the little shit - and turned back to Odin. “What? It worked, and Jor gets a tasty, pre-cooked meal!”

“Wait.” Quetza coalesced out of the air, looking half-concussed and half-drunk, grinning like a madman. “Wait, wait, wait. You took the thingy out with the thingy?” He waved first at Jor eating the Serpent, then up at the smoke and lava.

Jack shrugged, which was an odd feeling, what with him still wrapped tightly around Aster. “Uh, yeah? The volcano-mongoose personification was quite happy to oblige, once it saw the Serpent.”

Quetza fist-pumped, and almost fell over. “I win! I win I win I win I… _I won something_. What’d I win?”

Odin looked disgusted at the display, but unsurprised. “Jack, you fucking moron, what if you’d gotten caught, huh? You’re grounded!”

“Can’t ground me, I’m retiring!” Jack taunted. At Odin’s incensed glare, Jack amended, “Well, semi-retiring. No more jaunts out in the field if I can help it.”

Oh, now that was not a bad thing. Aster grinned, and tightened his hold on _his_ winter spirit. If he had to, he’d hold the tech he’d let WINTER borrow over Odin’s head; that should do the trick nicely.

Odin went to start shouting some more, but Quetza and Phil pulled him off to the side and the yeti produced paperwork from - somewhere - Odin frowned at it and growled at them instead.

Aster finally pried Jack off of him - and the little shit promptly sauntered over to the others, every inch of him screaming ‘conquering hero’ and loving it - and then moved over to address Jormungandr, being careful to keep his eyes above… well, _above_.

“Uh, Jormungandr? Can I interrupt you for a moment?”

The sea serpent swallowed, and tilted his head to better regard Aster with an eyeball the size of… something very big. Being the focus of that gaze apparently made it hard to come up with appropriate comparisons.

Aster waited a moment, and then, when Jormungandr didn’t speak, realized the sea serpent wasn’t likely to. Up to him to carry the conversation, then.

“So, ah, Death told us that the Serpent was in possession of some sort of Key that would free some of my brethren? I don’t suppose you, by chance, have found it on the … carcass?”

Jormungandr snorted, the rush of air rather like a blue whale’s spout, only smelling much worse. After a moment of apparent thought, Jormungandr began to make sounds like a cat trying to hack up a hairball, only louder and therefore much, much worse.

Aster backed up, wisely as it turned out, because Jormungandr then hacked up a glob of spit, slime, and stench. If the sea serpent was bothered by the mess, he hid it very well. It took only a minute of Jormungandr poking around in the gob with his big, blunt muzzle - apparently that didn’t bother him either - before he lifted something small and glittering out of the mess on the tip of his tongue.

The small, glittery thing turned out to be an old fashioned brass key.

Aster blinked at the item, and took it gingerly off the serpent’s tongue. When his hand clasped around it, the glittering surface shimmered oddly, like a rainbow, in response to the contact.

He blinked again. “Huh. A Transdimensional Space Lock, disguised as a key. Wherever did It find this thing?”

Apparently sea serpents could shrug, or at least, Aster interpreted the ripple up and down Jormungandr’s body that way. And then the overgrown snake went back to his… meal.

Although he paused right after, and, swallowing another mouthful, looked up and over at Jack.

**“Little cold one. Come.”**

Jack, showing all the self-preservation instinct of the proverbial lemming, immediately bounded right over. “Hey, yeah, what can I do for you?”

Jormungandr’s head came all the way down to Jack’s level and he turned to set his gaze directly on Jack, eye mere feet from the sprite. The eye alone was greater in diameter than Jack was tall.

Aster just kept from grabbing Jack and yanking him to safety. The hold Quetza and Odin had taken on his biceps might have had something to do with it.

**“I like you,”** the great serpent rumbled. **“You shall pet me now.”**

“Yes!” Jack cackled, and all but body-slammed Jormungandr on the side of the head. “I knew this was gonna happen. Where should I scratch? The barnacles look itchy.”

Aster backed away slowly, distancing himself from the disturbing and strange spectacle that was Jack _petting_ Jormungandr, and turned to look at the others, silently mouthing, “The _hell_?”

Odin looked no less disturbed, and shook his head. “Damn snake is worse than the damn cats,” he muttered. “Why do you think we tossed him in the ocean? Couldn’t get a fucking thing done.”

Jack ‘pet’ - really, more along the lines of scrambling around Jor’s _head_ \- the great serpent for a while, before he tumbled off Jor’s neck when the beast shuddered in apparent pleasure, and landed with an ‘oof’ on the ground.

Which was immediately followed by a groan of sudden pain.

“Jack?” Aster risked getting close to Jor, and crouched down next to his mate. “Jack, what’s wrong?” After all, it wasn’t necessarily broken ribs. Probably not broken legs or anything, but it was Jack. It was entirely possible the idiot was running around on broken bones.

“Ow, my ribs,” Jack muttered, hugging his left side.

Okay, so maybe it was the ribs. Aster sighed, and cuffed Jack lightly upside the back of the head, before picking him up bodily and carrying him to the Sleigh.

“North! Snowglobe! Jack needs to go to the Infirmary!”

“Nooo,” Jack whined softly. “Not Nurse Gretchen…!”

“Shut up,” Odin said. “You,” he pointed at North, “Provide these two idiots with a snowglobe, of all the fucking useless things. Then get your shiny ass back over to the battlefield and provide more snowglobes for all the fucking morons that got injured and are hanging out in freezing cold ocean. Now!”

“Bun- _ny_ , nooo... “ Jack continued whining into his neck, despite Odin’s demand for quiet. “Nurse Gretchen doesn’t _like_ me!”

Odin cleared his throat. “Chief Medical Officer Gretchen,” he corrected.

Jack’s eyes grew big enough that Aster worried for a moment they’d fall out of his head, before he turned his head fully into Bunny’s ruff and whined piteously. Something to the effect of, “Now I’ll never escape!”

“Well maybe,” Aster whispered, “If you stopped trying to cause trouble, she’d be nicer to you.”

Jack peeked up at him and pouted. “She’s mean. Dun wanna.”

North chose that exact moment to toss the snowglobe.

“Alright you big baby, off we go.”

“Noooo….”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Sunday, 21 Dec 2014 -- Pacific Ocean, somewhere south of the Mariana Trench, midnight**

“What the -” Jack was cut out of his whining by the sight of the medical ward. “What _happened_? It looks like Mardi Gras puked on a science fiction convention.”

Aster half-shrugged, burden as he was with Jack’s weight. “Gretchen asked me if I could provide the medical staff with more space, similar to my Closet.”

Yeah, looked like they needed it. “Anyone going to end up with magic cancer from this?” He was set down on a straight-backed wooden chair, and winced. Yeah, the ribs hurt.

Bunny snickered. “Might get lost in the eightieth wing, but no.”

“There’s wings,” Jack said, in the careful deadpan of a man doing his best not to scream in terror.

The Pooka nodded, either ignoring Jack’s distress over the very idea, or missing it entirely. Jack was betting on the former; Aster was a sharp one, when it came to Jack, at least.

_Well,_ now _he is,_ he amended mentally.

“Yes, there are. Subdivided by ailment and malady, and sorted into sections based on-”

“I want a kiss,” Jack said. There was an approaching nurse, herald of doom music playing in the back of Jack’s head. He had no idea where his little thing about the medical department came from, but it was there and so be it. “I want a kiss. I saved the freaking day and got temporarily eaten by a snake with really smelly insides. I _deserve_ to be sexed over so much that I can’t walk the next day ‘cause I’m still blissed out, but until that time, I want at least a kiss.”

Bunny, chuckling at Jack’s demands, obliged him with a long, slow kiss, that was only interrupted by the arrival of the nurse, who ‘politely’ cleared his throat when they didn’t stop for a full minute after his arrival.

Before Aster pulled away, he whispered in Jack’s ear, “Soon as your ribs are healed… I believe the appropriate phrase you taught me was ‘prepare thy anus.’”

The nurse - a fox - had the carefully blank expression of someone who’d just overheard something he hadn’t wanted to. Jack grinned at him, and stroked one hand down Aster’s neck.

“Okay,” he said, and took as deep a breath as he could manage. “Do your worst, hell-beast.”

The nurse cocked his head, ears twitching forwards. “Chief Gretchen isn’t here at the moment,” he commented lightly as he bent down to start examining Jack’s ribs.

“Chief Hell-Beast isn’t here?” He brightened up, and then winced. “Ow, don’t _poke_ me! They’re broken, we all know this.”

The nurse hummed thoughtfully. “Yes. Three of them, in several places. This will take a while.” He glanced up at Jack, a sly grin playing across his muzzle. “She’s down in the Puncture Ward. Want me to fetch her?”

“Do you want all the blood to freeze in your veins?” he asked in return.

 

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**Sunday, 21 Dec 2014 -- Warren, late evening**

Jack carefully opened the front door to the burrow, at just the right speed that it wouldn’t creak - long practice had taught him how fast that was - and crept inside, mindful of his recently wrapped ribs. Torso, really, given how free with the bandages that fox nurse guy - Rey-something or another - had been.

He grinned triumphantly. _Good. No one has noticed me yet._

Everyone in the burrow seemed to be in some form of ‘sprawled’ out, from Sandy stretched out flat - surprisingly flat, considering - on the floor, to North taking up the big couch, Tooth on the easy chair, and Bunny on the loveseat. The kits and Quetza were also in attendance, curled up together under the desk or around and on Tooth, respectively.

White gauze bandages abounded around the room, though no one else bore quite the surplus Jack did. North’s left arm was bandaged from elbow to wrist, and Tooth had a careful wrapping around her waist; Sandy was… well, sand, and the kits had several scattered bandaged patches, but nothing too serious-looking. Quetza had a good foot of his tail bandaged, and another wrapped around the side of his head; it was tinted a pale pinkish-red. Probably a cut or something.

Bunny was surprisingly bandage free.

Jack sauntered in a way that his ribs hated but he knew Bunny liked, and made his way over to Aster’s side - and lap - unimpeded. He dropped down, carefully, and curled up against his lovely and cuddly mate’s chest. Lovely and cuddly and comfortable; the partially reclined position was the first one that hadn’t made the broken bones and countless strains howl with agony.

“Hey. Started the meeting without me?”

Tooth giggled at Jack’s obvious lack of care. “We figured you’d be stuck in the Infirmary for a while.” Her gaze turned sly. “I’m given to understand the Chief has a thing about making you stay in bed for days, even for the littlest of injuries.”

Jack waved one hand in airy dismissal. “Oh, _her_. No worries.” He paused a moment, and then grimaced. Whoops.

Bunny’s arms came up and curled around Jack; carefully, but also quite conveniently pinning him in place, unless he wanted to injure his ribs further.

“I hear that I’m starting to rub off on ya, Jackie,” the Pooka stated, amusement plain in his voice and expression.

“Hey, American’s say that sorta thing too. Not like I’ve been swearing like you do,” he mumbled.

Aster’s grin sharpened ferally. “A little birdie might have told me a thing or two.”

Jack blinked, and scowled. “The Wind is a traitor.”

The stupid rabbit chuckled, and seemed to get a little more comfortable. “Eh, she likes me.” He paused, and added dubiously, “Not sure that’s a _good_ thing, mind you…”

He pet Aster on the chest a few times in sympathy before turning his head to look at the others. And frowned.

“Huh. Quetza, when did you two get so… _comfy_ in public? Last I knew, you were still a puppy following around his master attentively.”

Tooth frowned, and wrapped her arms a little further around the breadth of Quetza’s shoulders. “You hush, Jack. We’re all just glad to still be alive.”

AKA, they were still in the post-coital bliss that Jack really wished he could be enjoying with Bunny. Good enough. He shrugged, very carefully, and half-closed his eyes.

“So, are we talking about anything super-important, or just winding down from stopping the end of the world.”

North cleared his throat. “Well, Bunny was about to tell us about this ‘Key’ he found when you waltzed in like man who’d just escaped prison.”

Jack sniffed. “I did not waltz. There was no dancing at all.” He twisted to peer up at Bunny. “Key?”

Bunny held up a little brass key. “This little beaut, yeah.”

Jack slowly reached up, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bunny, my heart? Bunny, that’s a key to a steamer trunk.”

The Pooka smirked at him. “Or, it’s a Transdimensional Space Lock, _disguised_ as a steamer trunk key.”

“... Yeah, okay,” Jack said. “Guess that works too. Trans-what now?”

“Transdimensional Space Lock,” Aster repeated. “It traps whomever and whatever get caught within its area of effect in a bubble of stopped time that is slightly out-of-phase with the rest of spacetime.”

It took him a moment to translate that into reasonable English - Jack was maybe just a little tired, sue him, he’d had a massive fight right on the heels of doing some crazy weather and temperature manipulation - but he figured it out. “So the Pooka are all locked up wherever, frozen, and the key will return them to our reality and time speed?”

Aster nodded. “Basically, yeah.” He grinned at Jack. “One of these days, I’ll let you see the Tech Manuals, my little sci-fi geek.”

“Are they in English?” He wiggled against Bunny, just a little shimmy of his shoulders, and smirked. “You still haven’t taught me space languages, and you _promised_.”

Quetza huffed at the both of them. “Lovebirds.”

“We- _ll_ ,” Aster drawled, drawing out the word until it was a few syllables long, and pointedly ignoring Quetza. “ _Someone_ has been busy _saving the world_. Repeatedly. For the last few years. But _someone_ is planning to retire, so maybe they’ll get to learn new things.”

Jack enjoyed Quetza’s spluttering at that. “Yeah, being a Guardian of Fun - or is it Joy? - and an Agent of WINTER is just crazy busy. And I break fewer ribs as a Guardian of Fun…” He trailed off, and maybe drifted off, because time did a weird little skip to a few seconds later.

Raijin perked up once Jack became fully aware again. “Will you still teach the newbies? That’s always loads of fun to watch!”

“On the condition I don’t have to do paperwork. Any more papers, I’m chucking them in an open lava tube,” Jack said.

The kitsune giggled and went back to cuddling each other.

“We’ll work out the details with Odin later, Jackie,” Aster said, and began petting Jack’s hair.

Jack snorted, but relaxed into the petting. Sure. He’d even watch that conversation, or what have you… from a distance. Like, far enough back that no one would be able to pull him into the argument.

Maybe Bunny would be able to hold that borrowed tech over Odin’s head… Jack really couldn’t think of anything else that’d get the old geezer to relinquish one of his Agents. Heck, the old man supposedly sent his remaining Valkyries to battlefields, just to make sure no one got sent to a boring afterlife.

“Anyway,” Aster continued after Jack settled into the petting. “I have an inkling of where the other Pooka got locked away; the way this Key feels - and a cursory examination with some of my other technology - indicates that it is of Pookan origin, and was likely, for lack of a better phrasing, just ‘lying around’ when the Serpent attacked and used it, opportunist that he is.”

“So is probably in or around the Temple, да?” North asked.

Bunny nodded. “Yeah, I was thinking so. I figure we can go look tomorrow, or maybe the day after; I expect we’re all bloody exhausted. Though,” And here he paused, and eyed Tooth and Quetza, the latter of which had the grace to blush - Jack gaped, having never seen such a thing before - before continuing, “ _Some_ of us seem to be healthy enough for… other activities.”

“Wait,” Jack said, a little blankly. “What?” Quetza and Tooth… “Damn it! I had plans for bells and your bed!”

Quetza blushed more furiously, but Tooth just looked down her nose at Jack primly. “I’ll have you know we’ve not christened the bed yet. In fact, we didn’t even make it out of the Fortr-”

Quetza cut her off with a hand over her mouth, and a pleading expression. She huffed, and relented, relaxing back against his scaly chest with a satisfied smirk.

Jack laughed, and shook his head. “Someone contact Phil and his bet book,” he said. “I think no one predicted that outcome!”

Aster paused at that, and looked down at Jack. “ _Phil’s_ the bookie?” He shared a glance with North. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

North nodded in surprised agreement. “да.”

“Well,” Jack sobered a touch, and looked away from the Kitsune. “ _Now_ he is.”

“... ah, right,” Aster said lamely, before he suddenly shifted and lifted Jack bodily into a bridal carry. “Well, I think it’s high time we all retired for the evening. I expect to see everyone back here in… fourteen hours? We have preparations to do.”

“Better make it thirty-six, Cottontail,” Jack whispered into one long ear. “I’ve got plans for you, me, our bed, and lots of lube…”

“... Right. Make that forty hours. Jack’s, ah… not ready for such activity yet,” Aster amended, ears dropping in embarrassment.

Quetza snickered, and pulled away from Tooth so she could stand up. “I know what ‘activity’ he’s ready for.”

Aster coughed into his paw. “Touché.”

“Especially since you two didn’t even leave the Fortress,” Jack mused aloud. He glanced over at North, and raised one eyebrow. “Hey, big guy. Any plans for you, Anika, and some quiet time?”

North tucked away a piece of paper, and snorted. “Christmas Eve is four days away,” he snapped. “Bunny, I apologize for the three days to Easter, I know _exactly_ how you felt then. Still, Phil left one of his sheep dogs to ride herd on preparations. The elves cannot have blown anything up yet…”

Aster nodded smartly. “Right. Apology accepted.” He cleared his throat. “Fine then, I forgot about that. Let’s reconvene after Christmas then; they’ve been in stasis for who-knows-how-long. A few more days won’t matter none, and I can be more prepared for their arrival.”

Jack chuckled, and waved at the others. “Go on, get out of here, you freeloaders,” he said, while at the same time using the chance to hand-signal the Kitsune. They nodded, and stood up in unison.

“Let us escort you to the tunnels,” one of them - he wasn’t sure which one, at this point - said to the others.

“And get some space before the howling,” the second Kitsune muttered, very audibly.

Aster waited until the door closed firmly behind the last of them, and then turned down the hall. “Right, time to get you into bed. I expect you’ll need your rest.”

“And time to get me into you.” Jack trailed a finger down the side of Aster’s neck. “I am the conquering hero, after all…”

Aster actually blushed at that, his nose turning a darker shade. “I, ah… you sure? You’ve got cracked ribs and all….”

“So I’ll be lying down on the cushions, you can do all the work. You’re supposed to be pampering me, after all.”

Bunny’s gaze sharpened and his stride took on a more purposeful gait. In no time at all, Jack found himself carefully and wonderfully spread on the bed, gently and comfortably surrounded by blankets and pillows aplenty, and Bunny ever-so-slowly stripping off every piece of clothing Jack was wearing. Given he was half-in his armor, it took longer than normal, but it was no less sensual, thanks to Bunny’s frequent pauses to pet and stroke and lick.

Jack was nearly reduced to purring, prevented only by being born with the wrong vocal chords. He hummed his appreciation instead, and stroked first one long ear, then the other. Some imp of perversity, no doubt the sex-starved one, made a nice suggestion. He rubbed his thumb in a circle against the tip of Bunny’s ear, and then started to nibble on the tip, teeth just scraping against flesh and pinching the little tuft of fur at the top.

Bunny, as hoped, shuddered and groaned, his paws stuttering in their attempt to remove Jack’s final layer - his pants - and the Pooka had to visibly pause for several seconds before he continued.

“Tease,” he murmured breathlessly, right before licking a stripe from balls to tip up Jack’s erection as it sprang free of the tight leather pants.

“Aster!” Jack convulsed, but the pain of his ribs was nothing to the pleasure of Bunny’s tongue and lips against his prick. “ _Fuck_.”

“That’s the idea. Gimme a tic to, ah… prep, and then I’ll do as you command, my ‘little hero.’” Bunny’s ears drooped in mild embarrassment. “It’s… been a while.”

“Yeah.” Jack smirked, and gave Aster’s ears one last rub and tug, before folding his hands behind his head. “You get such a kick out of being the one on top. It’s really hot.”

Aster shuddered again as he swiftly prepared himself - and Jack must have dozed off for a few seconds again, because before he knew it, Bunny was positioning himself over Jack’s cock and asking him, voice gone husky with arousal, “Ready?”

Jack reached down, and took hold of Aster’s hips. “You know it, love,” he murmured, and stared down at where their bodies were slowly joining.

Aster’s long, drawn-out groan as Jack filled him was, truth be told, the best reward the ‘conquering hero’ could ask for.

Well, that, and the eventual orgasms later.

But that was later, and now - Jack’s grin turned into a moan of his own as Aster started riding him - now, he had this to focus on.

Everything else could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaysurin's Commentary: "Two more chapters... I feel sad... Guys, we had so much fun on this fic. So many death threats, so many tears, so many dead characters... (Corgi didn't let me keep Jack dead. Thank him.)"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "I like Jack alive - or at least _undead_ \- to make my pairing work, thank you very much. :P I was very surprised when I realized there's not much story left. Ah well. After, Kaya and I will write the little prize fics for the "Who's Edwin?" contest a bit back, and then comes the NEXT collaborative project. More on that later."


	60. Chapter 60

**Christmas, Thursday, 25 Dec 2014 -- Burrow, Warren, morning**

It was always a good day, when he woke up and his ribs didn’t hurt. At least that’s how it’d been going recently.

Jack smirked against Bunny’s chest, the soft fur warm against his cheek and lips. He stroked a hand down his Pooka’s side, and then let his fingers wander to Bunny’s groin. It didn’t take much to get Bunny hard and sliding up out of his sheathe.

“C’mon,” he murmured. “Wakey wakey, Bunny.”

Aster grunted in his sleep, but a few more strokes down below caused his eyes to flutter open with haste.

“Mmm… Jack?”

“Morning, Cottontail.” Jack grinned, and shifted his hand. The heel of his palm pressed against the base of Bunny’s sheathe, and he rubbed his fingers against Bunny’s balls and perineum. Bunny shivered, legs spreading open on what was probably automatic at this point.

Bunny nuzzled at Jack’s head with his chin. “Mmm, morning to you too, Snowflake.” Aster half-moaned, half-yawned as Jack continued to rub slow circles at the base of his cock. His mouth cocked in a lazy half-smile. “Someone’s frisky this morning.”

“My ribs don’t hurt.” He smirked, and pulled his hand away. “They don’t hurt, so today is guaranteed to be a good day.”

Bunny’s paws finally came up to run along Jack’s sides, sending shivers down his spine. “So what do ya feel like, love?”

His smirk widened, and he sat up on his knees. “Well,” he mused, drawing the word out for several syllables. “I was thinking pancakes.”

Aster snorted into Jack’s hair, which tickled. “Before or after you molest me?”

Jack widened his eyes and did his best to look innocent. “Bunny! You wound me! I’m not molesting you.” He tickled the tips of his fingers against Bunny’s sheathe. “I’m _seducing_ you. World of difference.”

“Either way, you woke me up with my cock. Gonna finish what you started?” Bunny rejoined, a smirk of his own settling in place on his muzzle. “Or will I have to take care of myself today?”

Jack hummed, and rested his hand on Bunny’s knee. “So, we’ve done me all tied up before,” he said, and looked pointedly at Bunny’s hands. “How do you feel about returning the favor?”

The indrawn breath and rapidly dilating eyes were answer enough, especially given that Bunny’s nod seemed almost like an afterthought when it came several seconds later.

“Right.” Jack started unwrapping the bandages from around his chest. “Hands up over your head, wrists together… Damn fucking tape.”

“Aaah, rope, if you please? Fur.” Bunny cleared his throat. “There’s some in the dresser. Silk.”

“I still want this stuff off. You keep rope in the dresser?”

“Oh, that?”

Bunny’s finger did that odd shiver thing and he suddenly had a sharp-looking claw. Before Jack could react, the Pooka had neatly sliced the bandages clean through, without doing more than tickling Jack’s side.

“Done!”

“That was incredibly hot.” Jack frowned at the claw. “I think? Rope.” Dresser, dresser… and helpfully in the top drawer. “Rope.”

When he turned around, he had to gape for a few seconds at the image Bunny made, with his hands waiting above his head near the faux-headboard. It was a rather provocative pose, especially with his cock standing rigidly at attention and visibly throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

“ _Damn_ ,” he muttered, and hurried back with the rope. He trussed Bunny’s hands up, making sure the trailing ends of the knot were where Bunny could grab them if needed. “Right,” he said, and moved back to get a nice view. Yup, very nice view. “Well, Cottontail, what do you think?”

Aster tugged his hands several times before nodding in satisfaction. “She’s apples. I could pull out of it if I wanted, but it’d take a lot of effort. Perks of being able to dislocate your thumbs.”

“Or you could just pull on the ends here?” Jack rolled his eyes. “That’s what it’s there for, silly goose that you are.”

He shrugged, and then waggled his eyebrows meaningfully. “Either way, it’s good. Going to get started, or will I have to rub myself off on the sheets?”

“See, the point of this is that you’re at my mercy.” Since he was crouched down at Bunny’s ankles, it was really easy to start caressing them. “Poor, tied up you. Whatever will I do?”

Bunny’s leg twitched a bit too much for Jack’s liking at the caress.

“Right. Guess they’ll need to be tied down too.”

Aster’s faint, aroused whimper was all the answer Jack needed as to the desirability of _that_ idea.

He managed to get the rope around each ankle, and then stretched out to go around the two posts at the end of the bed. Bunny was somewhat spread-eagled as a result, his bottom half anyways. “No more twitching,” he muttered, and started the slow crawl up from the bottom of the bed, to Bunny’s hips.

“Hey there, handsome.”

A pregnant pause. “Jack, are you talking to my _cock_?”

“I don’t want mini-Bun feeling neglected.” Jack grinned up at Bunny.

And then breathed hotly on the cock in front of his face while watching Bunny’s face for a reaction.

Aster groaned and threw his head back, hips rising slightly off the bed towards him, though he couldn’t get very far, tied down as he was. After a moment, his hips fell back down onto the sheets and the Pooka whined faintly.

“Tease.”

“Ah, you love it.” He scrambled a bit, and then sat down on Bunny’s stomach, just forward enough that a certain rabbit’s cock didn’t poke him in the butt. “You love it, and you love me. And I love you back lots.”

Bunny hummed as Jack settled down and began nibbling on his neck. “S’pose I do, at th _-aat_ -”

“Oh.” Jack sat up straight, and bounced, with a care for where he was sitting. “Idea.”

An inquiring grunt as he bounced was all the answer he got. That, and a frown, which was probably because he continued bouncing.

“I’m thinking three,” he said, and spread his hands. “I know, three’s kinda a lot, but I’m not thinking all at once.” The warm feelings from his dream curled together in his stomach, not exactly adding to his arousal, but not detracting from it either.

Aster blinked at him in complete confusion. “Three… what?”

Jack frowned, and then shook his head. Right, they didn’t share a brain, so Bunny had no idea what he was talking about. “Babies.”

More confused blinking. “You’re bringing that up at a time like _this_?”

“Sure, why not?” Jack stroked his hands over Bunny’s chest, seeking out the Pooka’s nipples. “Hey, do you shapeshift to only have two? Because more would not be bad, except for the only having two hands things… I dreamt about us being parents last night. Hooboy.”

Bunny squirmed at his touch. “Mmm… I s’pose that makes sense. Still, more sex or whatever-it-is you’re planning, and less baby talk? We can always discuss it over breakfast.”

“Are you telling me you can’t do sex and baby talk - I mean, talk about babies - at the same time?” Jack clucked. “For shame, Bun-Bun. For shame.”

Aster glared at him. “Babies are nice and cuddly and cute. Sex is hot and messy and wanton. _See the problem_?”

“Yes, but you need to do the one to get the other.” Jack reached to the side, and scooped up the vial of lube. “Oh, we’re almost out.”

Sighing in defeat, Aster slumped beneath Jack. “No we’re not. I brewed up a new batch last night after you conked out. It’s in the kitchen.”

“Oh, good.” Jack slicked up his fingers, and tossed the empty vial away. “Second reason to go to the kitchen. First, pancakes, second, more lube.” He paused, and added, “I have plans for the more lube. Now, where should I put my fingers…”

He grinned, sharp-edged and pleased, and wiggled them for Bunny to see the lube glistening in the low light.

“Mmm… well. My cock is a nice choice, but, knowing you, you probably want to tease me more. So…”

Jack laughed, low and dirty, and started teasing himself. “I could always make you bottom,” he pointed out. He paused, and bit his lip, as he eased one fingertip inside. “Y’know, again.”

Aster groaned at the image Jack made atop his stomach. “T-true,” he whispered softly after a moment’s pause. “But I think you’re in the mood to be filled, not the other way around. Least, with how you’ve been going on….”

“That, and I had a dream about our babies,” he agreed. “And thinking about it, not until marriage. At least _I_ can’t get pregnant.”

“Though…” Aster started, and then stopped, his nose darkening in his version of a blush.

‘Though what, fluffy?” He worked a second finger in, and shifted, the better to display himself for Bunny.

“Um… well, you _do_ kind of have me tied down. Nothing is, ah, stopping you have it both ways….”

Point. Decisions, decisions… Jack pursed his lips. “I’ll bring you breakfast in bed,” he promised, and went back to working a third finger in.

Aster’s eyes dilated further at Jack’s implication and he groaned again watching Jack prepare himself. “I’m not leaving the bed today, am I?”

“Do you really want to?” Yeah, that was good enough. Jack hummed, and slid his fingers out, one after the other. “Because honestly….”

“Gonna leave me tied up _all_ day?” Aster asked, in a tone that suggested the very idea was sorely tempting and _very_ arousing.

“We’ll have to see, won’t we. Depends on if we want to shift positions…” Jack wrapped his still slick fingers around Bunny’s cock, and stroked a few times. “I mean, what if I want your rump in the air, hm?”

Aster hissed at the idea. “Pillows. ‘M flexible.”

“What, you don’t want me grabbing onto your ruff and making you come from my cock alone?” Jack paused, and blinked. “Wow. I wasn’t aware I could even do dirty talk like that… does it count as dirty talk? I don’t know. It seems kinda tame. Thoughts?”

“... actually, I like the sound of that. If you, ah... untie my legs, I can just roll over. Y’know… _later_.”

Said like that, “later” translated to “get on with it!” Impatient Bunny was impatient. Should he tease him a bit more first?

Jack pursed his lips, and then began to smile. “Aw, Bunny, are you feeling a little quick off the draw this morning? I’m pretty sure I can figure something out to help with that…”

He got off the bed - and ignored Bunny’s piteous, aroused whining - and started rummaging underneath, a feat made easier by lifting up some of the pillows and moving a floorboard.

“Hah! Found it!”

“Wot?”

Jack stood up, and held up the feather duster. “You know how hard it is to find these things anymore?” he asked, and twirled the handle between his fingers. “Really hard. Usually in sex shops, these days. What an education, let me tell you.”

Bunny shot him a confused look. “Jack?”

The “what’s that for” was obvious, if implied.

Jack’s grin turned impish. “This.”

And he gently ran the feathers down Aster’s cock.

Bunny gasped, slamming his head back into the pillows and _writhing_ beneath the duster, hips shifting what little they could as they sought the little friction that the feathers provided.

“Y-you’re a h-hor-rible tease!” the Pooka gasped finally, after several prior attempts at talking turned into long, drawn-out moans.

“You started it.” Jack tickled the duster from Bunny’s tip to balls, and smirked. “I’ve got other toys hidden away, if you want me to pull them out…”

If the answering aroused moan was any indication, Jack was going to enjoy having Bunny tied up today _very, very much_. And finally get to try out all his toys, to boot!

“Yeah, maybe later,” he muttered, and tossed the duster aside. “Right then, Cottontail. Let’s see now… Tab A into slot… what should we call it, C?”

Panting was his only response. Okay, that, and a meaningful look that shifted between Jack and Bunny’s twitching cock.

“Right. Doesn’t matter. Get on with it. Okay, how shall I go about… ah!”

Jack reached out and grabbed the cock, grinned when Bunny moaned again as he gave it a few more pumps for good measure, and then settled himself over the Pooka’s stomach, the tip of Aster’s cock just barely kissing his hole. Jack bobbed his hips slightly, just enough that the first half-inch breached him on each downstroke, only to pull back out almost immediately.

It was really great when your lover’s cock was so nicely tapered like Bunny’s was; so _easy_ to tease this way.

“Jack!” Bunny whined, face twisted up in an agony of pleasure.

“Mmm?” Jack hummed inquiringly, even as he lengthened his bobbing so that the first two inches started to penetrate his ass, while simultaneously slowing the speed at which he was moving, so each stroke took several seconds to complete.

No point in getting Bunny off _that_ quickly.

“Jack, fuck, Jack, not funny! Not - oh fuck, Jack, c’mon! Gonna - Jack, just… _siddown_ , would ya?”

Humming thoughtfully, Jack paused in his movements on an upstroke, the tip of Bunny’s cock sitting just outside his hole again. “Why? Your refractory period is, like, _literally_ _seconds_ when you’re this aroused. I can take as much time as I like-” Jack grinned suddenly, all teeth. “-and there’s _nothing_ you can do about it.”

Bunny whined, and pressed his head back into the pillows. “So siddown and we’ll keep going, okay? Just siddown!”

“Actually,” Jack drawled, and slid down a few inches, nearly half-way down Aster’s cock. “I think I’ll just get you off like this, and _then_ ‘siddown’ for round two.”

He shifted back up, and then down again, increasing his pace as he moved, and focusing on stimulating only the top half of Bunny’s cock. Which, much like a human cock head, was _very_ sensitive when aroused as much as Bunny was right now.

It barely took another minute before Aster started whining and moaning in the way Jack had learned meant he was just about to come.

“ _That’s_ it Bunny. Let it _all_ out. C’mon… you can do it...”

“Not if you - motivational phrase no. No.” Bunny swallowed hard, the muscles in his neck flexing, and groaned.

“Fair enough. In that case, I’ll just do… _this._ ”

Jack reached behind him and tugged once on Aster’s sack, rolling the testicles between his fingers, while the tips of them teasing at the Pooka’s perineum, pressing down against the muscles there. He simultaneously down stroked halfway, to avoid a mess on his backside and down Aster’s front.

Bunny screamed, back arching as he came hard. If he was trying to talk, well, he was also failing utterly at the whole ‘words’ idea.

Jack slide all the way down as Bunny continued to come. Once he was fully seated, and Bunny had stopped spurting inside him, he felt the cock soften momentarily - for all of three seconds, as predicted - before it became rock hard inside him once more. Jack moaned at the sudden feeling of fullness, between the hardening cock and the come trapped inside him.

Bunny moaned again himself at the tightness now surrounding his still-very-sensitive cock.

“J-Ja-a-ck?” he asked pleadingly.

“I think breakfast just got delayed,” Jack told him, before starting to move again. “No matter. We’ll just _work up_ an appetite. Let’s try for…” He hummed thoughtfully as he shifted his hips lazily. “How’s _four_ rounds sound?”

Bunny whined, but also managed to smirk. “I think we should try for five.”

Jack grinned ferally. “Deal.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Christmas, Thursday, 25 Dec 2014 -- Burrow, Warren, late afternoon**

Jack pumped his hips, lazy and slow, and played with the base of Aster’s tail.

Bunny whined and writhed beneath him, and came all over the sheets under him. Again. For the… eighth time? Jack wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought so.

Or maybe ninth?

Happy Bunny had gotten off - again - he sped up his pace and, with his other hand, checked beneath his worn-out lover - yep, hard _again_. Perfect.

Another couple minutes of effort, and pumping Bunny’s cock in-time with his hips for good measure, Bunny groaned one final time and came all over the sheets. His ass squeezed wonderfully around Jack’s cock, and he, too, moaned as he hilted himself and came.

He flopped forward bonelessly, cock managing to stay seated, and half-hard, inside Bunny’s ass. Aster grunted at the sudden weight, but otherwise remained still on the bed, panting.

“Right,” Jack muttered, and turned so he wasn’t getting a mouth full of fur just by breathing. “That was good. You seemed to enjoy yourself.”

Only panting answered him for several seconds.

Eventually, Bunny managed to slur, “Y’r th’ best.”

“I accept all forms of appreciation in the form of cuddles, kisses, and pancakes.” Some tiny part of his mind was wondering at his lovely elocution, but details.

“H’w-” Pant. “H’w ‘bout a blo’j’b later? I’m-” Aster’s panting slowed down enough that he could talk normally, if slowly. “-still randy for some reason.”

“That’d be my cock up your ass,” Jack pointed out cheerfully. “Blowjobs aren’t bad either.”

Aster hummed happily. “I like it where it is. Leave it in?”

Jack snickered. “Sure thing, Cottontail. I like where it is too.”

They laid there for several minutes, enjoying their companionable, if exhausted and still slightly charged, silence. Jack felt himself harden slightly from the continued pressure, but not enough to make him want to do anything about it just yet. Seemed like he had a respite - for at least another few more minutes, anyway.

Aster did hum appreciatively at the activity in his ass, though, so there was that. Jack grinned smugly against his Pooka’s back.

“So,” Jack said. “It’s Christmas Day.”

“Is it?” Aster murmured. “This is a lovely prezzie. I could do with more days like this.”

“The coming at least two dozen times to my four - or was it three dozen to my five? I lost count - or…?”

Silence for several heartbeats. “Three dozen to your six. You forgot that you just came again. And yes - all of it, actually.” Aster hummed happily. “Even the bondage. It’s… surprisingly arousing.”

“Good to hear.” Jack patted Bunny’s hip. “So. Tomorrow, what’s say we go release ze Pooka from ze Prison?” he asked, aping a French accent for the last half of the sentence. Proper Quebec French, not that namby-pamby stuff from across the ocean.

Bunny snorted, but nodded into the pillows. “Sure. We can - _aaah_ \- do that. Someone’s waking up, I see. Poking me in a- _aaaah_ -ll the right places, too.”

“Little bit,” Jack confirmed. “Right. We have a plan. Tomorrow, Pooka. Today, your ass is _mine_.”

“I - _oooh_ \- like this - _aaah_ \- plan.”

Jack may or may not have started gently thrusting in response to Aster speaking again.

“You’re mostly coherent. Looks like I have more work to do,” Jack quipped, and half-sat up, half-pushed himself up. “This position still good? Or do you want me to do something else?”

“... tail action is still good.”

“Let me know when it’s not,” Jack reminded him. And then started fondling Bunny’s tail, since it was ‘still good’.

Bunny moaned, long and low. “‘M glad I gave you the pill thingy I - _oooh_ \- made when we - _aaah_ \- had brekkies.” He started to pant again. “Y’r the best mate I - _aaah_ \- could ever h- _oooh_ -pe for.”

Considering Bunny’s history, high praise indeed.

Jack grinned ferally.

Time to show him just _why_ he was the ‘best mate ever.’

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Boxing Day, Friday, 26 Dec 2014 -- Somewhere in the Congo River Basin, Central Africa, late morning**

“Did you find it yet?”

“For the tenth time, _no_ , Jack. Keep your pants on,” Aster snarked, and continued to poke around for the interdimensional keyhole. It had to be here _somewhere_.

Jack didn’t look away from the ceiling. “I could take them off if you _really_ wanted.” He sounded serious, but also bored, which was hardly the best combination.

Aster glanced over his shoulder and glared. “No. Not when I’m - theoretically - about to release a whole bunch of Pooka. I’d rather _not_ have the first meeting be an anatomy lesson too.”

Jack smirked at him. “But that could be fun.”

“No.”

“Why are you poking at the air anyway? Isn’t it going to be on a wall or something?”

“Not necessarily,” he ground out. “Now, if I could keep going with this?”

Jack waved one hand. “Don’t let me stop you. Hey, should I get myself one of those handheld game system things?”

Aster growled in annoyance. “How about you get the others to come inside? I don’t want North to try to ‘improve’ anything while he’s here, and I’m sure they’re done searching the grounds.”

Jack dropped to the ground in a boneless twist and fall, somehow landing on his feet. “Yeah, that’s worrying. Alright. Be right back, don’t pine to death while I'm gone.”

Being the adult that he was, Aster waited until Jack’s back was turned before sticking his tongue out.

“Only stick that out if you intend to use it!” Jack called over his shoulder, without looking, and waltzed off before Aster could figure out how he knew.

He shook his head, and went back to, as Jack had termed it, poking at the air with the key. There was a lot more to it than that, of course; he was carefully probing around, with his paws _and_ the key, as well as his senses, in an attempt to locate the transdimensional keyhole. They were normally placed against a surface for ease of access, but the Serpent had obviously not wanted _anything_ to do with ‘easy’ - hence the ‘poking the air.’

He noticed, absently, the sound of people joining him in the room. North was humming one of his Russian songs under his breath, somehow in tune yet completely out of rhythm with Tooth’s wing-beats.

Highly annoying.

“Bunny, found anything-”

“AHA!” he shouted triumphantly, and pushed the key into thin air - the latter half of which disappeared from view.

When he removed his paw to make sure he’d gotten the right spot, it stayed in the air without assistance. He grinned happily.

“So, that’s a yes, then?” Jack asked, while Tooth and North made the appropriate confused sounds. Sandy must have seen one of these keys before, because he looked half asleep. More so than usual.

“Now all I have to do is…” he trailed off as he took the key in hand and, with a flourish, twisted it in the dimensional lock.

There was an audible click, and then -

All hell broke loose.

Tooth screamed, but in rage - and North went flying. So did a young Pooka with brown fur, having hit North’s bulk and rebounded unexpectedly. All around, Pooka halfway through an attack found a sudden lack of enemies. Fortunately, they mostly stumbled, none of them being armed with anything more dangerous than a few large vibro-knives. The Pooka had survived the time stasis better than the blades; most of them were crumbling to rust.

There was one Pooka, though-

“Bunny!” Jack shrieked, entire being lighting up. “He’s got a _lightsaber_!”

Aster turned, and suddenly cringed. “Jack, no!”

The familiar - _very familiar_ \- Pooka swung at what he thought was an attack, the plasma-charged blade swinging through the air. Any closer to Jack’s face, and Aster would’ve been short one mate. As it was, he was fairly certain his heart actually, really and truly, stopped for a second.

And then Jack was clinging to the Pooka’s shoulders, babbling a mile a minute and making grabby hands at the sword.

“Jack!” he cried, again, before burying his face in his paws. El-Ahrairah have mercy, this wasn’t happening!

“But Bunny! It’s a _lightsaber!_ You never told me Pooka had _lightsabers!_ I want one!”

The dark gray-furred Pooka finally managed to get his free paw on Jack’s hoodie and pulled him off his back to hang by his neck - much like a kit being scolded - and glared for all of two seconds, before his nose started twitching. He leaned forward and sniffed all over Jack’s front, eyes slowly widening.

Just as slowly, the Pooka looked from Jack, over to Aster. Who - as if things weren’t bad enough already - was now standing in the center of a ring made up of _very_ interested Pooka, and three confused-and-amused Guardians. The Pooka all had twitching noses, and a few of them were hiding grins.

“Well, son,” his father said, sounding _just_ like Aster remembered, “It seems your thing for bare skin has come about yet again.”

And he tossed Jack at him.

Aster dodged Jack rather than catching him, letting the fool flip through the air and catch himself in a hover a couple feet behind Aster. Jack frowned at him severely.

“You were supposed to catch me,” he said flatly.

“You look like you recovered just fine without me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack muttered, and waved one hand in dismissal. “So, lightsaber! What’d he say, by the way? I can have it? He said I can have it, right?”

“Did you hear _anything_ he said?”

“I don’t speak ‘Musical Pretty Language.’” Jack paused, and leered at Bunny. “Well, I recognized a few things, but he didn’t say any of _that_.”

Someone in the crowd snorted. It sounded amused. Of course it did. How’re they understanding Jack - oh, right. The Universal Translator earbuds. Now that he was looking, he saw all the assembled Pooka were wearing them. Probably assimilating the language the more they spoke; they’d be speaking it soon enough.

“Well, Jack. Let’s see if you can figure this one out,” Aster said, and moved to stand next to his father. “Notice anything?”

Jack set his staff down, and then hopped up to perch on the crook. “Hmmmm,” he said, and made a big show of ‘thinking it over’. “You both have big ears!”

Aster sighed dramatically. “Yes. All of us do.”

His father slowly turned to look at him. “Edelweiss.”

Aster twitched, and turned to address his father in English. “I go by Aster now, sir.”

The old man frowned, and then smacked him upside the head. “Sir, now?” he asked. “Where was this respect twenty years ago? Hmmm? No! It was all ‘Branwen and I shall love each other forever’ and running off for three months. Sir!” He stared up at the ceiling, and shook his head. Almost absently, he turned off the plasma blade, much to Jack’s audible disappointment.

Aster - now in Old High Pooka, because he was _not_ about to let Jack know he was being teased horribly - said, “That was totally different! And I was, like, _sixteen_ at the time! And hormonal!”

He pointedly ignored the ‘twenty years ago’ for the time being. That was a conversation to be had once the other Pooka had at least figured out English.

Chrysanth smirked, and very obviously looked Jack up and down. Then, as if he needed to make things any more clear, tapped the side of his nose. “Clearly, you’re _still_ a hormonal teenager. I do know how many go-rounds it takes for someone to smell like _that_.”

“Who topped?” one of the others piped in.

Aster’s nose turned bright pink.

Jack giggled. “Either they just asked you about us having sex, or … no, they asked about sex. Wait, wait! Lemme guess! Umm…. From the look on your face, I’m going to say… they asked who topped.” Aster growled at him, silently promising to kill Jack if he answered with anything other than... “And the answer is: yes, but he was tied down the whole time, so it’s a technicality.”

“You’re a dead man, Frost,” he snarled.

“Now, now,” Chrysanth murmured. “Don’t say anything you don’t mean. Introduce me properly to your young man, Edelweiss.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“When you stop acting like you never moved out.”

“When you stop acting like I’m still sixteen!” Aster shouted back.

Jack chortled. “I have no idea what you guys are saying, but I’m enjoying the show.”

Chrysanth rolled his eyes at Aster, and turned to Jack, saying in heavily stilted but understandable English, “I am hoping my son is more mature in your bedroom.”

Jack nodded happily. “Oh, he’s the picture of maturity most days - waitaminute.” Jack blanched. “ _Son_?”

Aster covered his face with one paw, and waved between his mate and his father. “Da, this is Jack Frost. Herald of Winter, Guardian of Fun. Jack, this is my Da, Chrysanth.” And from the sounds of things, they were going to get along _fabulously_.

Maybe he could move in with North for a while… vodka-breath was lightyears better than his father and Jack ganging up on him.

“Oh!” Jack exclaimed, and jumped down off his staff while simultaneous dusting himself off. “You can call me Jack. Or Frost, I suppose, but Bunny usually says that when he’s annoyed with me. Like right now.”

He reached out a hand to shake, which Chrysanth eyed in confusion for all of two seconds before he realized what Jack was doing. He gripped Jack’s hand firmly and said, “A pleasure. It’s nice to finally see that my son has found a mate with some _sense_.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, and peered at Aster. “There’s a story there…?”

“ _Not_ being shared,” Aster snarled. “Not now, anyways…”

Chrysanth leaned over and whispered, “I’ll let you know about all three former, ahem, ‘mates forever’ later.”

Jack nodded. “I’m getting a ring on your finger soonest I can, Cottontail,” he said absently. “So, hey, Chrys. I can call you Chrys? About that lightsaber of yours….”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Boxing Day, Friday, 26 Dec 2014 -- Fortress, Antarctica, afternoon**

“-and this here is the last of the shots we expect we’ll need to give you for now,” Gertrude finished. “Once your bodies have acclimated further, there should be another round to ensure immunity to the diseases most likely to be zoonotic for Pooka.”

Chrysanth - and Bunny’d clearly gotten his looks from his dad - smiled at Gertrude, and did some fancy proper sitting bow thing over her hand. “Thank you,” he said, his accent continuing to clear up.

Less “English learnt from an Irishman who’d learnt from a German man who’d learnt from a man whose first language was Hebrew” and more, well, Irish-by-way-of-Australia, maybe.

And the other Pooka were not far behind that curve. And all of them were developing Australian accents, to some degree or another.

“Bunny?” he said sweetly.

Aster turned warily, knowing what that tone meant. “Yes?”

“They’re all gonna sound Aussie, aren’t they?”

A slow, tentative nod.

“Because they’re listening to you, aren’t they?”

Another slow nod.

Jack sighed melodramatically. “Great. More Aussie-speak to figure out in my future.”

“It’s not just that! It’s the shape of our muzzle and tongues!”

He rolled his eyes, “ _Suuure_ it is…. Hey, Chrys, I’m going to cut and run here for a few; got some paperwork to finish, and then we can head back to the Warren, m’kay?”

He got halfway to the door before the Hand of Doom caught his sweater hood. “And where do you think you’re going?” the Voice of Doom thundered.

“Uh.” He didn’t need that sweater anyways…

“Get back here!”

“Not on your life!”

Aster would recover his sweater from Gertrude.

Right?

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

**Boxing Day, Friday, 26 Dec 2014 -- Burrow, Warren, evening**

Jack scowled down at Aster, looking put out. Rather like a cat that’d fallen into a bathtub, now that he thought about it…

“You were supposed to rescue my sweater.”

“Wasn’t aware it’d been in danger, mate.”

“You’re a horrible person, E. Aster Bunnymund.”

Chrysanth leaned forward. “His first name is Edelweiss,” he supplied helpfully.

Jack looked unholy levels of gleeful with that information. “ _Is_ it now?”

“Your sweater is fine, Jack,” he pointed out. The chances of nipping whatever Jack was planning in the bud were slim, but worth trying.

“She bedazzled it!”

“You mean she washed it, fixed a few holes and worn spots, and folded it neatly before handing it to me? Then yes, she totally ‘bedazzled’ it,” Aster deadpanned.

Jack snarled at him, and then turned to show his back.

Where his name had been marked out with glittering rhinestones. “Bedazzled,” he spat.

“Ah,” Aster said, and cleared his throat. “I’ll… get the universal solvent later, yeah?”

“You do that.” Jack sat down with injured dignity, and smiled brightly at the other Pooka. “Hey! I don’t know you two.”

The other two Pooka - one with dark brown fur and gold markings, the other white with purple, of all things - looked to Aster for introductions. None of the Pooka had quite figured out how to translate their names to English just yet, so he’d been left the onerous duty of doing so. _All day_.

They proceeded to supply their names in Pooka and, after a moment’s thought, he turned to Jack. “The brown one is Cleistes, and the white one is Eraxis. They’re both-” He paused, and asked. “Male-presenting, though Eraxis doesn’t mind feminine pronouns some days.”

“Long as he tells me which days those are,” Jack said, not even batting an eye. Granted, in the current day and age, it wasn’t unknown for humans to be the same - but, not being Pooka, or shapeshifters, well… Aster was proud of Jack’s non-reaction, all the same.

“I will, of course,” Eraxis promised. “I may do so with a water bottle, but you will always be told.”

Jack nodded and grinned, satisfied, before turning to Aster. “So, fluffy-butt, you wanna tell them, or should I?”

Aster folded his arms. “I should. You’d sum it all up in five sentences, maybe less, and leave them with more questions than answers.”

Jack raised a finger and opened his mouth to object, paused, and then shrugged. “Point.”

He leaned back in his chair, scrunching down slightly to hide the lettering on his back before gesturing. “Go on then, I’ll be the peanut gallery.”

Aster rolled his eyes and turned address his father. Who was chuckling at Jack’s antics. “Don’t even start, Da.”

“Now, then, Edelweiss, you cannot blame me for wanting to get to know my son-in-law.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Aster interjected. “We’ve gathered you three here because, well… there’s no easy way to to say this, so I’ll just - right. It’s not been ‘twenty years’ since I last saw you.”

“I imagine not.”

“Well, ah… you see, the Serpent - which Jack has already killed, by the way-”

“With a volcano!”

“Shut up, Jack.” Aster glared for a moment, and then turned back to his father, mainly to ignore Jack’s cheeky grin. “Trapped all of you in a Transdimensional Space Lock.”

Chrysanth frowned, while the other two glanced at each other. “Transdimensional, hm?” he asked. One ear twitched. “So we wouldn’t age… but you don’t look much older than when I saw you last.”

Aster scratched at the back of his head awkwardly. “I’ll, ah, get to that in a minute. I took the liberty of carbon-dating the Temple when I first found it.”

Cleistes raised his eyebrows. “Does carbon-dating mean the same in this language as in our own?” he asked. “With the same limitations?”

Aster nodded hesitantly, and then said, slowly, “Yes. The Temple ruins are somewhere in the vicinity of... twenty to twenty-two thousand years old.”

Chrysanth reacted just the way he’d expected - which was to say, he closed his eyes and started thumping his forehead with a fist. The other two, who he didn’t know, were more surprising… and less.

“... You are joking, yes?” Eriaxis asked him. Cleistes just started shaking his head in mute denial.

“Aster wouldn’t joke about something like this,” Jack cut in seriously, leaning forward. “He thought he was the only survivor for a very, _very_ long time.”

Chrysanth looked up, his eyes colder than Jack’s ice. “Explain this, ‘long time.’”

Aster coughed. “Right. Um, well… Da, you know that the Tsar had entrusted me with a special task after Pitch attacked our homeworld, right?”

“And I’m tempted to go back in time and tan his hide for it, yes.”

“I, ah… I’m in possession of the Last Light.”

Jack blinked in confusion, but more because he didn’t truly know the importance of the Light. Or the effect it had had on Aster’s aging - that is to say, none at all. Give or take a decade.

“Explain for the rest of the class?” Jack suggested. As it happened, only Chrysanth seemed to know what the significance of the Last Light involved.

“The Last Light of the Beginning of the Universe,” Chrysanth whispered, sounding stunned. “You have it?”

Aster nodded.

“Jack,” Chrysanth continued. “The Light slows the aging process of it’s protector, so that they can remain with it for many years beyond their expected lifespan. The rate of slowing varies with the needs of it’s protector, which has always been believed to be because it’s semi-sentient.”

“Oh.” Jack clearly thought it over, and then nodded. “That explains why Bunny’s older than dirt. Literally.” He leaned towards Chrysanth. “He mentioned lava-world once.”

“Jack! I was going to ease them into that!” Aster exclaimed, forgetting himself for a moment in his exasperation. “It’s hard enough hearing ‘twenty thousand years’, let alone four-and-a-half _billion_!”

“Bandaid,” Jack said in his defense. “Better done fast.”

Aster, catching up with himself, realized what he’d blurted. He slowly turned towards the other Pooka.

“How long?” his father whispered, looking… well, his fur hadn’t actually dimmed, but ashen was the only word that came close to describing how he now appeared. Smaller was another good word.

Aster stared at his father helplessly, unsure of just _how_ to explain how long he’d been on Earth. Thankfully, Jack cut in.

“Ah, Chrys? He said four-and-a-half billion. Yes, with a ‘b’. That’s the age of the Earth, incidentally; he kind of arrived shortly after it formed. Been here ever since.” Jack cleared his throat. “He’s, ah, not exactly ‘mortal’ anymore. For the record.”

One of the two lieutenants - Eriaxis, he realized - got up and just… walked away. He didn’t go far, but when he stopped, he was looking away from their small group.

The other, Cleistes, buried his face in his paws and groaned. “How?” he whispered.

“How have I lived this long, how did you guys get here so late after me, how…?” Aster asked, offering suggestions to hopefully get more than two words out of the others.

Cleistes looked up at him. “I have a mate,” he said. He looked around, but he was clearly not seeing the Warren. “I have a mate. She was on the other ship. I said goodbye to her… it feels like yesterday.” He looked down at his hands. “But it wasn’t.”

Aster shifted awkwardly. “Well, that depends. What I’ve been able to gather from your logs indicates that all the ships that escaped weren’t quite capable of lightspeed. I got here through - well, other means - which means she could very well still be in transit. Time dilation gets really strange at near-light speeds. Do you know where they were headed?”

Chrysanth rested one hand on Cleistes’ shoulder when the other Pooka didn’t reply. “We’ll go back to that question in a bit. Go keep an eye on Eriaxis, lad. He’s apt to do something a bit… strange, if left alone.”

Jack looked like he wanted to ask what kind of ‘strange’, but Aster gestured for him to wait.

“Da, look,” Aster said softly, once Cleistes was out of earshot. “I got here by a combination of supralight and time travel, and used at least two wormholes. My time scale could have easily been slid backwards, for all I know; as far as I knew, I was the _Last_ , so I never looked into it.”

Chrysanth nodded slowly, and pressed his lips together in a firm line. “So we’ll look into it. But I want you to remember one thing, above all else. No matter how old you are, I’m still your old man. Which means I’m _older_ than you are. You understand?”

Aster smothered a laugh, in consideration for their aggrieved guests, but nodded. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He paused thoughtfully as an idea struck him. “If, ah, if it turns out that the timing of anyone’s relatives on other ships in relation to your is… off, I might know a guy who can work around that. Could take a while though; he’s always wandering the timestream, these days.”

“We’ll talk about that later.” His father reached over, and caught up a handful of Aster’s scruff. He pulled, and rested his chin atop Aster’s head. “I’m glad you’re alright, son.”

He allowed himself to be cuddled and chinned by his father, because, honestly? He’d missed that more than almost anything, the closeness of his family and clan. It felt… right.

Aster pulled back enough to look his father in the eye. “I’m glad you’re alright too, Da.”

“Group hug?” Jack suggested. “I mean, if this is a father-son thing, I understand completely, but my family was big on hugs.” He paused, and made a face. “Still is, kinda, which is… interesting, in a not-as-disturbing-anymore kinda way…”

Aster frowned for a moment, and then it clicked. “Oh. Right. He didn’t come by yesterday, because Christmas. I’d forgotten.”

“Good thing too, considering.” Jack chewed his bottom lip. “Do you have any idea how awkward it is to go to hug your mom, then open your eyes and you’re kinda not? I think he likes the hugs, though. Does he eat? He’s a bag of bones, possibly literally, that’s not comfortable…”

Chrysanth blinked in confusion. “You’re not making any sense. Again. Who are you two talking about?”

“Oh! That’s right,” Aster exclaimed, and turned to look at his father again. “Death’ll be dropping by next Thursday. That’s… six days from now. You can say ‘hi’ to mum.”

“To your…” Chrysanth reached over and tested Aster’s nose. “You’re not running a fever…”

Jack grinned. “No, silly. We mean Death himself. Death Incarnate. The Grim Reaper, or whatever your people called him.”

“Bone rabbit,” Aster supplied absently, translating on the fly. And then almost hit himself, because _rabbit_? He couldn’t have at least said Pooka?

“Right. So, the ‘bone rabbit’ is a friend of ours. He comes by every Thursday - well, almost every - for games and socialization. He doesn’t get much of it otherwise.”

“Thursday,” Chrysanth murmured, and shook his head. “Six days until you’re proven right, or delusional. Should be interesting.”

“Oh, you’ll love it. Jack’s Da is actually rather funny; I can see where he gets it from. Mum’s always wondering where you are, though, so that’ll be a nice surprise!”

Aster shared a grin with Jack, because it was quite obvious his father wasn’t completely buying it. Granted, they’d already shook his world several times this evening, so really, it was, as Jack had told him once, ‘par for the course.’

Whatever that meant.

He leaned back and watched as his father and Jack got into an animated discussion of the differences between Pookas and Humans - which, really, they’d been going on about whenever they had a spare moment - and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

He had a full and proper family again, other Pooka to care for and spend time with, and an abso-bloody-lutely amazing and wonderful mate.

Life was finally _good_. It’d be better once he finalized the agreement with Odin - Jack’s retirement in exchange for some technology - but for now, he couldn’t think of very many ways to make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "Never fear, the epilogue will appear. Next week. And then it'll be all over. And you'll be stuck with re-reading in order to enjoy the crazy all over again. Okay? Good. Glad you're following. Bye!"
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "I can't believe it's almost over. Enjoy the extra-long chapter! Epilogue next week, and chattier notes too!"


	61. Epilogue

**Wednesday, 23 Sept 2015 -- Warren, afternoon**

“Look, Cottontail.” Jack didn’t open his eyes. No doubt to better appear absolutely nonchalant. “All I’m saying is, maybe we should have a grandkid at least _cooking_ in your oven for when your dad gets home.”

Aster choked, and rolled onto his side, to better watch Jack while they talked. They’d flopped down in a field near Kern’s Grove to wait for the Kitsune to do their thing before they went to check on the recent arrivals in the Colony - and Jack had somehow managed to get them talking about kits.

_Again_.

“I thought you wanted to wait until marriage?”

The sound his mate made was equal parts amused, dismayed, and frustrated. “That was A: before that one… lady? Seemed very feminine to me. Anyways, she kept following you around. B: the others dissuaded her by pointing out we were already married, and technically with common law… and C: at this rate Quetza and Tooth will be hitched long before we are. I’d like kids sometime this century.”

“Well, it’s only two thousand and fifteen. That’s another eighty-five years-” Aster began in a reasonable tone and, as usual, Jack cut him off with an aggrieved sigh.

“Bunny. Sometimes I wonder if you forget I’m _only three hundred and twenty years old_. Eighty-five years is _forever_.”

Oh no. He was whining again. Time to cut that off before it got _serious_.

“Don’t you have enough children in your life right now? You were complaining about the baby agents just yesterday. Looked fit to drop ‘em in an iceberg for a few decades.”

Jack huffed, and flopped over onto his back properly, staring up at the ‘sky’. “Yeah, well, they just aren’t getting the history lessons I’m trying to teach them! They keep getting sidetracked by _me_ , and asking what _I_ was doing at this or that time-”

“Jack, love, arming them with paintball guns, turning out the lights, and screaming ‘last one alive wins’ isn’t a history lesson.” Aster paused, and added, “Besides, you’ve been involved with most of the big events since joining WINTER. Your inclusion is inevitable.”

Jack turned a mild glare on Aster. “That was _one_ time. I was _bored_. The War of Eighteen-Twelve is _always_ boring.” He sighed when Aster continued. “Yeah, yeah. I know, I know, but is it too much to ask to not talk about me in American History 101? Or 102, or 103, or...”

Jack trailed off, muttering about the dark and ominous things he’d do to the next student to ask him what he’d been doing instead of following the lesson.

“No hell-hounds,” Aster put in absently. Off the baby subject, thank El-Ahrairah. There were already a handful of kits in the Colony. And he’d rediscovered the love of playing with such small and precious creatures… and the horror that was projectile vomit and explosive diarrhea. Getting either substance out of fur was a trial and a half.

“But Death _said_ I could play with Cerberus whenever I wanted! Having him chew on baby agents counts as playing!”

“Not if you want to get laid any time soon, it doesn’t.”

Jack sighed heavily. “ _Fine_. Speaking of babies-”

“No.”

“But-”

“Jack. Not right now.”

Jack wrinkled his nose, but shut up for a whole five minutes. Granted, four of those minutes were spent kissing; Aster didn’t think Jack would find it easy to whine, nag, or remind him about babies when his lips were busy with something else. Even more difficult with Aster’s tongue in his mouth.

“We’ll _talk_ about it when you’re properly and fully retired,” he improvised.

“But, Odin said I _can’t_. He still wants me to teach part-time!” Jack exclaimed, but he was just pouting right now; Aster knew it, and Jack knew he knew it, by the grin he was trying to suppress.

‘Trying’ being the operative word.

“Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it? You’ll have to deal with it before I let you bring up the subject again.” Aster smirked, and pecked the tip of Jack’s nose. “Though I guess if you were to leave WINTER entirely you wouldn’t be able to keep up with the betting.”

Jack sighed. “And you’d get a different guard. No.” He shifted to get more comfortable. “And besides…”

Aster quirked an eyebrow inquiringly when Jack trailed off.

He ducked his head, and mumbled, “I’ve kind of stopped betting, ever since the whole fiasco with you and the greyhound track.”

“We agreed that was never to be referred to, insinuated about, or otherwise implied in conversation.” He rolled onto his back, and covered his face with one arm. “You promised me. Swore on your magic, your rank, and your balls.”

Jack rolled on top of him and straddled his hips. And not so incidentally, pressed said balls into Aster’s midriff. “Well, they’re right here if you want ‘em.”

Aster peeked out from under his arm. Yep. Cheeky grin and hooded eyes. “Jack… we’re out in the open, and the Colony is just a few hills away. Kits could wander by at any time….”

“No one comes around here,” Jack pointed out. “This is Kern’s Grove. Well, okay,” he amended, sitting back. “So that one couple.... the ones with the unpronounceable names? They came here to get a, uh, a blessing on their union to have babies…”

He paused, and added, “Probably shouldn’t have told them Kern was a fertility spirit when he’d been around.”

Aster considered that. “Didn’t they have triplets?”

“They very much did,” Jack agreed. “Which suggests if we hang around here and, y’know, entertain ourselves…”

He groaned and covered his eyes again. “When’s Da getting back, anyway?”

“Whenever he gets too annoyed by Ombric calling him a Companion. Or… I think the latest name is ‘Flower Power’? Probably a few more weeks.” Jack braced his hands on Aster’s shoulders, smiling hopefully.

“I think it’s Eriaxis’ turn next?” Jack nodded in confirmation. “Too bad, really. He’s been getting a might ‘friendly’ with my father of late, ever since Mum told him to ‘live a little’, what with her being in the afterlife and all.”

Jack paused in his possible seduction, and skewed his mouth to the side. “Your dad… and Eriaxis?”

Aster cocked his head to the side. “Wot?”

“It’s stupid…”

He tapped Jack on the nose. “Oi. Finish your thought.”

“Well…” Jack coughed, and shrugged his shoulders. “Just, uh, your dad looks a lot like you, yeah? And Eriaxis… well, white fur…. And his eyes are blue, too…”

“Huh - oh. _Oh_.” He covered his face again. How’d he miss that?

Although…

He grinned suddenly. Jack shot him a wary look.

“That just means my father has good taste. I mean, it _obviously_ worked for me and all….”

“Bunny! That’s not…” Jack poked him in the chest. “Keep it up, I’ll report you to Cleistes’ lady. See how amusing you find it _then_.”

“Oi! That’s not fair!” He cleared his throat. “Besides, what my Da gets up to, in, or behind doesn’t matter much to me, so long as I don’t have to watch.”

“Such a gentlemanly way to put it,” Jack mocked him. “So, if they show up to North’s winter festival Saturnalia thing as a couple, you’ll…?”

“Congratulate them, and then threaten Eriaxis with bodily harm, once I can get him alone, if he ever hurts Da’s feelings. Why? You want to help?”

Jack made a show of thinking about it. “Actually, that sounds fun. Though just to be fair, I’ll handle threatening your dad if he ever hurts Eriaxis. Deal?”

Aster laughed and pulled Jack down for a kiss. When they pulled apart - several minutes later - he said, “Deal.”

“What were we talking about again?” Jack asked, dazed.

“Never mind. Wanna snog a bit more?”

In answer, Jack bent back down and captured his mouth.

It was several long minutes later when a polite cough drew their attention away from trying to swallow each others tongues. Jack popped back up, gasping for breath, and growled, “What - oh, hey Raijin. Izanami. ‘Sup?”

“No, no, don’t mind us,” Raijin said, smirking. “Keep going. Very interesting.”

Jack wiggled his hips experimentally. Aster’s paws clamped firmly down on his thighs a second later.

“No.”

“But they hear us all the time anyway!”

“Whyever not?” Izanami asked. “We have very good hearing. And it is always interesting when a rabbit is… eaten.” She leered at the two of them, tail wagging behind her. Raijin smacked her upside the head.

“See?” Jack exclaimed triumphantly.

Sputtering, Aster decided the best course of action was to pull Jack flush against him - to prevent any further wiggling - and to hide his arousal until it abated.

“I don’t really feel like putting on a show today, Nami,” he noted, before sighing melodramatically. “Jack here’s a bit of an exhibitionist, though, so it’s probably only a matter of time….”

“This is true,” Izanami mused.

“There was that time in the kitchen,” Rajin added. And then he waggled his eyebrows at Aster. “ _That_ was an education.”

“I thought we knew everything about sex,” Izanami added. “Turns out…”

“There is always something new to learn.”

And now he had _two_ leering foxes. Wonderful.

They’d gotten almost as bad as Kern had been, back in the day. He opened his mouth to say something else-

“Hey, why’s the Grove glowing?” Jack interjected, sitting up and staring behind the kitsune.

Aster frowned, and propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s not glowing,” he corrected, though the lighting was certainly giving that impression. It’d gone golden, seemingly thick as honey and smelling just as sweet. “The hell?”

“From the color, I’d think ‘fire’, but the smell is all wrong,” Raijin commented, by all appearances calm, though his tone belied that fact. “I think we should investigate, just to be safe.”

Izanami stood up, and turned in a tight circle. “Investigate what?” she asked, before lapsing into quick-fire Japanese for several phrases.

Raijin returned fire, figuratively speaking, and then they ran off back towards the Grove.

“Think we should follow?” Jack asked, standing as if he already knew the answer and offering Aster a hand.

“It’s not a fire, so I’m dubious about the wisdom in that.” He stood up, and draped an arm over Jack’s shoulders. “But… fine. Let’s go.”

They made haste to catch up with the kitsune. Given their speed, it was only a matter of seconds, really, but that seemed to last quite a bit longer than it should. Aster sniffed the air.

_Magic?_

Not his, not the Warren’s, but definitely ‘natural magic’ of some sort.

“So, the tree’s glowing,” Jack deadpanned. “Kern’s tree is glowing. That doesn’t seem normal, does it? Do trees naturally do this? I wouldn’t know, I’m a winter spirit, any time I see a tree it’s either sleeping, dead, or magicked.”

“I’ve made a few bioluminescent ones for some of the outer caves, as an experiment, but no, not generally…” Aster trailed off and started to examine the roots nearest him.

Jack muttered something that sounded like “ _of course you did_ ”, but at least he was quiet about it.

“There is something moving in the distance,” Raijin pointed out. “Which is difficult, because in that direction there is a hill. I should not be able to see _through_ the hill to a forest.”

“Wot?” Aster turned to look. “There’s not supposed to be a forest over that way - _oh_.”

After all this time, could it really be…? He’d just about given up hope that the magic might work as he’d suspected….

“Oh?” the other three chimed in unison.

Aster stared at the wavering image. In the ‘distance’, which shimmered like a heat wave’s illusion of water, a tiny dot began to come closer. Time seemed to stretch out, making seconds last for minutes, yet also snap together, because the approaching hind was getting closer faster than its stately walk should have carried it.

“That’s not part of the Warren,” Raijin stated flatly, his voice hitching.

“No,” Aster agreed.

The hind - or perhaps, Golden Hind, as a title - looked the very image of a king stag. Huge - the antlers would have put _Megaloceros giganteus_ to shame. The Hind’s coat was a rich, deep golden hue, shimmering with lighter highlights as the sunlight - which seemed different than the natural light in the Warren, though how Aster couldn’t have said - caressed the stag’s muscles. If you went for four legs and what seemed to be pure animal, there would have been plenty of reason to admire said muscles, as they were perfectly proportioned for the creature.

Aster certainly thought it was beautiful, though not attractive. Thankfully for his sanity.

The Golden Hind paused, lifting its regal head to sample the breeze - which was only on that side of the magic… gateway? The air was still in the Warren.

The Hind stepped through the haze - finally - and slowly came to a standstill before the kitsune, where they stood, awed, a few feet from Aster and Jack.

It tilted it’s head to regard them for several long seconds, before leaning down to sniff at their foreheads, in turn.

A voice emanated from the Golden Hind, but it’s lips did not move.

“Hello, my lovelies.”

Jack slowly lifted one hand, and covered his face with it. “ _Kern_?” he hissed at Aster. “Really?”

Aster shook his head slowly, unable to look away.

The Great Stag leaned back and the golden hue of it’s coat took on a shine that built quickly, to the point where Aster had to cover his eyes from the brightness. When the light faded-

Kern stood before them, as hale and youthful as Aster recalled him being nearly five thousand years ago. His coat retained a bit of the golden hue of his Stag form, though the grand antlers were nowhere to be found.

Rather, his antlers were tiny little nubs, just a little longer than Jack’s thumbs.

“Bambi!” Jack blurted, and was treated to a sudden death glare from the resurrected old god.

“Don’t you ever call me that again,” Kern snapped, and then paused. He reached up to his horns, and Aster nearly lost it at the expression on Kern’s face. “What happened to my horns?”

Before anyone else could say anything, the kitsune plastered themselves to his sides, hands flying around Kern’s body, as if checking if he was truly real. Twin gasps resounded a moment later, and Kern pulled them into a tight hug, kissing each one on the forehead in turn - much as he’d sniffed them as the Stag moments before - and whispered something too low for Aster to make out, even this close.

He wasn’t sure the kitsune heard him through their relieved sobbing.

Jack tugged on his arm. “Let’s go,” he said. “Leave them their privacy.”

Aster nodded, and turned, throwing back over his shoulder, “We’ll be at the burrow when you’re ready to visit.”

Jack paused, and turned back. “Kern? Did you bless that one couple with triplets?”

Kern flashed a cheeky grin in answer.

“Yep, totally,” Jack affirmed, seemingly confident, though his voice was a bit high. “Off we go then!”

Aster wrapped one arm around Jack’s shoulders. “I’ll handle the steering,” he promised, “If you want to choke out a few manly tears.”

Jack waited until they were out of earshot of the trio before he started sniffling. And stumbling to a halt, so Aster just picked him up in a bridal carry and carefully made their way back to the burrow. The Colony could wait a bit; Jack needed some time to process what had just transpired.

Truth be told, so did Aster, but he had never been as close to Kern as the others, and he had long practice at compartmentalizing his feelings for later. Often much later.

“So,” he said, once they were safely back in the burrow. “Kern’s back. I’m glad, though after Death let him show up I figured he’d just gotten too old.”

Jack sniffled a bit and snuggled into Aster’s side further, nodding as he got comfortable with him on the sofa.

After a couple minutes, Jack mumbled, “You don’t seem surprised?”

“Well, I am old,” he pointed out. “Used to be you couldn't turn around without one of those pagan idiots getting offed and brought back.” After a moment, he added, “They were idiots because they died choking on beans and pissing off birds. Not because they were pagan. The pagan mortals tended to be a large bit smarter.”

Jack shifted and looked up through his bangs. Somehow that always made him look both sexier and more innocent, at the same time, which would be confusing if it wasn’t also arousing. A fact which, Aster suspected, Jack knew _very well_ and abused to his benefit.

“You knew? Or suspected?” he asked softly.

“You really think I’d raise your hopes when I wasn’t sure myself? Or worse, _theirs_?” he asked, nodding towards the door. “Besides, one of Kernunnos’ spheres of influence was ‘rebirth.’ It was a logical extrapolation.”

“For you,” Jack grumbled, but he stopped trying to look like a kicked puppy. “Yeah, okay, I can see why you didn’t say anything. You’d think his ghost-self would’ve mentioned it, though…”

By the look he’d shot Aster during that whole interchange back in October, Kern had given up hope that he’d resurrect at this point. Not unexpected, given the lack of belief base. He should have realized something was up the moment that couple had had triplets, though. Kern should not have had enough ‘juice’ left to perform a miracle.

Perhaps the kitsune’s daily prayers had made the difference? He voiced his thoughts aloud.

Jack wrinkled his nose. “You’re asking me? C’mon, Cottontail, you know I don’t like the fiddly parts of magic. For all I know every time someone has sex under the trees they’re worshiping him.”

“Just sharing, love, not expecting a dissertation on the finer points of belief systems.” Aster paused, and chuckled. “Actually, if I remember correctly, that was one of the standard rituals for his worship, back in the day. It probably helped a lot.”

“So those people filming that one string of pornos,” Jack mused, trailing off thoughtfully. “I feel like I should write them a thank you note.”

They settled into a comfortable silence while they waited for the others. Minutes turned to an hour, and Jack got a bit restless at his side. Aster started slightly out of his light doze.

“Something wrong, Snowflake?”

“Got bored. Kern’s probably busy blissing out the kitsune.” He trailed one finger up Aster’s side, sliding through the fur. “How about we bliss each other out while we wait?”

Jack waggled his eyebrows, even as he moved in to start mouthing at Aster’s jaw. “And just think,” he added. “If they walk in at a good part, Kern will have new fodder for his fanfiction…”

Aster laughed and shifted on the couch so that Jack settled between his thighs. He pulled Jack up and under his head, chinning him thoroughly before letting him pull back enough to look Aster in the eye.

“Well, can’t say I dislike the notion,” he mused. “And I have been getting used to be walked in on lately, with the kitsune always around.” He tapped Jack on the nose. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Strut, baby,” Jack said, and pulled off his sweater. “Strut. And find some lube.”

He pulled his bandolier off and palmed a vial out of one of the pouches.

“Done and done,” he said, smirking. “Love you, Jack. You know that, right?”

“Is water wet? Is fire hot? Is your ass mine?” Jack smirked, and then paused. “Huh. Bunny…”

“Yes, love?”

“Kern. God of fertility. Living in our house.” He paused, and stared at Aster. “Maybe we should, uh, make sure we don’t end up with triplets?”

Aster considered it for all of two seconds, and then cupped Jack’s face. “Nah, I don’t think so. You keep asking, and I might as well give in to the inevitable. Besides, it’ll be nice to have some little ones again.”

“Three is a good, round number… but not all at once!”

“You’d be surprised how many ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’ they’ll have volunteering to help.” He ran his paws up and down Jack’s sides, eliciting a pleased near-purr.

“You have to carry them, and pop ‘em out when the time comes. Three. At once.” Jack melted into the touch, and began touching back, the bases of Aster’s ears, and his neck.

“I think we can cross that bridge when we get there,” he offered reasonably. “After all, Kern’s ‘blessings’ haven’t _all_ generated triplets.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Jack bent his head and began nibbling at Aster’s shoulder. “Bedroom?”

“Dun wanna move. Here’s fine; don’t care if we get walked in on.” Aster paused for effect, and grinned slyly. “You’ve corrupted me, Snowflake. However shall I punish you for that?”

“If we’re talking babies, I’m not bottoming…”

“‘Course not. Later is soon enough for that. Now, I do believe we have other activities to get back to...?” he said, proffering the vial of lube.

Jack claimed it, and smiled. “You’re the best, Bunny. A guy could get used to this kind of service.”

Aster nuzzled Jack as he began preparing them both. “Anything you want, love. We’ve got forever, after all.”

“Forever sounds lovely.”

“Then forever it shall be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kayasurin's Commentary: "And so, we end our story with everyone happy - Jack's mostly retired, doing the work he finds fun and spending the rest of his time either with Bunny or out spreading Joy and laughter. Bunny has a beloved mate and is no longer the last of his species, with more coming to earth all the time. Kern's back, and hey, he even has smaller horns now! The Kitsune are happy, because their beloved has returned. North and Anika are taking things slow, but they both smile more, while Tooth spends a lot of time smiling in a self-satisfied way these days.  
> "The big bad is dead, the little bads defeated, and the day is safe once more. It's been a long, fun ride, folks, but it's gotta come to an end.  
> "Enjoy the re-reads."
> 
> Corgi's Barking: "Aaand it's done. OMG IT'S DONE, I CAN'T BELIEVE- I can, but still. Long road and all that. _Sixty-one_ chapters. Wowza. This has been a lovely ride, and I hope everyone enjoyed it!"
> 
> Additional Notes (as written by the Corgi):  
> Yes, we remember the little "Who's Edwin?" contest and yes, we have documented what prompts for who. As soon as I have a replacement computer (which current tentative ETA is around the end of this month!), we will divide and conquer!
> 
> For those who may lament that we now have no collaborative work in-progress... we do, actually. Well, kind of; it's in plotting and preparation right now, and also awaiting my acquisition of a new computer. But yes, we have a new fic in prep: _Snow Angel_
> 
> Look for it around late March to April, depending on when we get things going!


End file.
